


And Yet, The Sun Will Rise Again

by Cxnfiscated



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Allura's in her twenties, Alternate Universe, Angst, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insecure Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Minor Character Death, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Slavery, Slow Burn, So much angst, Tags May Change, Undercover Missions, at some point, why am I doing this to myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-06-06 23:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 86,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxnfiscated/pseuds/Cxnfiscated
Summary: “Altea has fallen. You can call upon your crown as much as you want but it won’t answer, Princess, not anymore.”Crown Princess Allura and Royal Advisor Coran are forced to flee the capital after the Galra killed the King and Queen of Altea. The three Garrison deserters Hunk, Pidge and Lance free Officer Shirogane from the Garrison and meet Keith who has deserted a year earlier.Their paths cross and they clash, hot and volatile. Before they know what happens they find themselves in the middle of a war and have to abandon their innocence for the armour of soldiers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I present you my first multi-chaptered fic!! Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so fails might happen and updates will be rather slow but long.  
> Biggest thank you goes out to my beta-reader Sasha. I love you and you're an absolute blessing.  
> Anyways, enjoy!!
> 
> (Trigger Warnings at the end)

She would never know their last words.

Allura, the princess and heiress to the throne of Altea, would never know her parent’s last words.

Sick and delirious with fever she laid in bed, Coran, her most trusted advisor, at her side. Her memories were blurry at best. Shapes and colours. She remembers them smiling, laughing at her stubbornness to get well without a cryopod, but every time she tried to recall their words her memories blurred like a badly taken photograph.

Her parents had left in preparation for the banquet hosted by the Galra, to celebrate the line of succession, to celebrate Emperor Lotor taking his seat on the throne.

 

The scream that tore from her throat still rang in her ears. She dimly remembers Coran’s iron grip on her shoulders as he hauled her through the castle because they would be coming for  _ her  _ next.

But Allura wanted to stay. Abandoning her only home, the halls that had been around for as long she could remember─ The thought alone made her want to hurl.

 

Black spots danced in her vision as Coran’s grip formed an invisible ring of ache and pain around her wrist that would remain there for weeks to come. Her insides curled in on themselves, breath came harder and harder. It was as if someone had taken her world and broken it in half, cracked it open like an egg and now slowly, much too slowly, watched the pain drip like the gooey insides. It dragged on and on and didn’t stop, her tears flowed like rivers down her cheeks, blurring her vision further and further.

 

She was still barely on her feet, not even able to stand when Coran threw a cloak over her shoulders and pulled the hood deeply into her face. Sobs tore through her chest like thunder through a night sky. She doesn’t how they made it past royal guards without them asking any questions, without anyone stopping them. They took one of the royal ships, naked, without a royal sigil, packed full with enough resources to last them at least a few weeks and ran. 

 

By the time the news reached the general population the citizens of the capital had already drained out of it like blood out of a wound and Allura and Coran were far gone.

 

The sun wasn’t even beginning to rise when they reached the border of the capital when it became time to say goodbye. The second dawn broke would mark the beginning of a war that would tear families apart, make children abandon their innocence and bathe the entire country in blood.

The sunrise would mark the beginning. The corners of her mouth lifted as the thought crossed her mind, her smile a twisted thing etched out of sadness and laced with pain. She would never see the sun again, her sun laid gutted on the floor of the Galran Court among the darkness it couldn’t banish.

 

Her sun had set,  _ had been set _ , and it wouldn’t rise again.

* * *

 

A FEW WEEKS LATER:

The Garrison had always been a dream. Candles on birthday cakes where the smoke was still rising in milky white tendrils, lashes blow over fingertips and shooting stars in the night sky.  _ Make a wish _ , someone would say and Lance would close his eyes and always wish for the same.

_ Make a wish.  _

_ Make a wish. _

_ Make a wish. _

 

His past self would spit in his face if he could see him now. 

 

The alarms rose and red warning lights flashed as Lance and Kogane and Hunk hauled a more unconscious than not Takashi Shirogane through the halls of the infirmary of the Galaxy Garrison. 

“Faster!” Kogane sped up, not caring whether Lance and Hunk could keep up.

“What do you think I’m doing, Mullet?!” Lance snapped, as footsteps thundered through the halls. His breath came laboured, like liquid fire in his lungs. Corridors wound and wound on. Did they pass this wall earlier? Did they go right? Or left? Didn’t they just pass that door? Panic clouded his mind.

 

They had five minutes tops, then the doors would close and Pidge wouldn’t be able to get them out anymore. She had shut down the system long enough for them to sneak in and out with being seen. At least that was how it was supposed to go and then the first shot was fired and a hand had pulled him just out of reach. Kogane had looked like fire and fury, flames burned behind his eyes and ash came out of his mouth as he hissed,  _ What the hell are you doing here? _

The question was a mere echo of what has been ringing in his ears since the first door opened. Lance almost wanted to laugh. The burn in his legs intensified, spread through his body like a disease and if he went by Hunk’s breathing he didn’t feel much different. While being almost inhumanely strong, running had never been never one of Hunks strong suits.

 

They turned, then again, then again. Even Kogane next to him was sweating buckets; a fact, when stated at a more appropriate time, would have pleased Lance insanely. But right now there was pure adrenaline rushing through his veins and a heartbeat like thunder in his chest.

 

“ _ Two hallways left. Hurry, goddamn it!” _ Lance almost didn’t hear Pidge’s voice over his own breathing but he forced himself on. All the while feeling he was abandoning everything he ever stood for. Bullets hit the walls around them, steps thundered behind them. 

Lance had a gun. Lance could stop them. But could he really? His insides shrivelled up at the mere thought, and the voice of Little Lance’s taunting him grew louder.

 

Little Lance, the one that still got to make wishes, that still got to dream of a world where the sun didn’t rise tainted with blood, would be disgusted with him. And who would blame him? Lance was throwing away all that he and his family had ever worked for. Hauling an injured officer that was being sought after as traitor out of captivity, together with the guy who deserted a year earlier and  _ deserting himself _ ─ God what was he  _ thinking _ ?

 

Nothing, at least not right now. Not when each second spent thinking could be followed by a second of dying. Lance couldn’t stay stuck in the past when the present actively tried to kill him, so he gritted his teeth, swallowed the stale taste of disappointing everyone  _ again, _ and kept running.

 

The door appeared and for the first time, he felt relief flooding his veins. He sped up, making wider and wider steps, faster and faster, hauling the officer behind him. They bolted down the corridor, all but carrying Officer Shirogane. The doors behind them slammed shut but time was still short. The sirens still blared and it was only a matter of time until someone would catch up to them. 

 

“... Cadre 5, Cadre 6, Cadre 18…” Hunk had closed his eyes and was mumbling nonsense, his fingers tracing the numbers on his open palm.

“What are you _ doing? _ ” Kogane looked like a wild animal; like he would start breathing fire any moment. He had already hauled the Officer onto something that looked like a bike and revved the engine. Lance turned to Hunk and tried to listen, decipher what he was saying. But in vain.

 

“Hunk… Buddy, listen. We have to get out of here. Keep it together. Please.” Lance reached out to touch his shoulder but his fingers met air. Hunk had straightened and look now more assured then ever. Well, at least as assured as possible while he was still shaking and sweating about hair’s breadth away from tears.

 

“I’m not losing it,” Lance wanted to object but thought better of it, there was a time and place for snark, “I was reading the sirens. They are letting the entire west cadre loose, so if we want to get out we need to use the east quader, then the catacombs to meet Pidge at the Nebulus.”

 

The Nebulus was a river that looped around the Garrison like a ring and was multiple kilometres wide. It was artificially put in place to guarantee water supply for the facility. With its vastness and the number of people that have already drowned in it, Lance believed it was created to keep the students from running away.

 

Officer Shirogane let out a punched out groan and Kogane started to mutter something in his ear. They looked awfully close. Lance’s heart clenched, another thing he couldn’t have. 

 

“We would never be able to walk─”

 

“Get on already!” Kogane yelled over the sirens as Lance and Hunk scrambled onto the bike that  _ clearly  _ didn’t look like it would be able to hold more than two people, let alone four.

But desperate times, desperate measures, right?

 

“Big guy, I need you to give directions!” The wind almost swallowed his voice but Hunk heard him anyway and started shouting instructions. Lance tried his best to hold onto Kogane as he sped over the grounds of the Garrison. The grounds he had come to call his home… the ground which he would be nothing but a deserter,  _ a traitor, _ to. With the officer propped up between his and Hunk’s body with Hunk holding him in place, Lance had no other choice to cling to Kogane to keep himself and Hunk from falling.

 

The Garrison staff--the part that didn’t lay beaten and bloodied on the floor of the infirmary-- had managed to crack the code that blocked the door and had somehow acquired hover bikes and jeeps. They were right behind and gaining on them. 

 

The roar of the Garrison motors were becoming louder and louder, coming closer and closer─ 

“Kogane on my signal turn left!” Hunk yelled as they approach what seemed a dead end.  _ Was Hunk trying to get them killed?!  _

“Hunk…what are you doing?!” Lance’s grip on Kogane jacket tightened and he clamped his eyes shut. He waited for a pain that never came.

 

“ _ NOW!” _  Kogane swerved, whirling up dust and sand as they leaned so hard into the curve Lance felt his hair grazing the ground. But they straightened again and drove off through a hidden gate between two armories, that were tucked behind the dorms.

 

They lost the officers after Lance’s entire left side of his body gone numb. They passed the forgotten outer corners of the catacombs to avoid dealing with the outposts and the Nebulus was more than just a tiny strip on the horizon. They came to an abrupt halt, dust whirling as Lance hobbled of the vehicle.

 

“Took you long enough.” Pidge had already changed out of her Garrison uniform and into black pants and a tight top. She hopped out off the back of the jeep that Lance and Hunk had managed to jump start on their few trips to the nearby town Merris. Kogane was almost carrying the officer as he caught up with them.

 

“Who is he?” Pidge thrusted her chin in his direction her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Kogane stared right back, with fire in his eyes.

“Kogane. Deserted last year ran into him while we were getting the officer.” Kogane’s head whipped around as Lance spoke, brows furrowed. He didn’t say anything but Lance saw the unspoken question in his face, so he answered.

 

“How do you know I deserted?” He didn’t say deserted like the rest of the Garrison did, like it was worse than murder.

 

“Word travels fast, Mullet. You didn’t expect  _ The  _ Great Kogane to disappear without a trace and no one in the school knowing about it?”

 

“ _ The  _ great Kogane?”

 

Lance scoffed at his disbelieving face and shook his head. Nope, he refused to stroke that guy’s ego even further. He opened his mouth, snappy retort already on his tongue but he was interrupted as Hunk got out of the jeep entirely clad in black. He had pulled back his brown curls with a headband, its stark yellow the only splash of colour on his massive frame and began looking at the holographic map Pidge had drawn out earlier.

 

Lance took his arrival as his cue to get changed. Their Garrison uniforms would be a target on their backs. Either for officials who would then have the right to arrest them for not only deserting but treason or for Galra smugglers. Garrison children sold well on the black market.

 

He crawled in the backseat of the rover and found his spare clothing as well as his rifle. When the war came a year ago everyone at the Garrison had gotten their own type of weapon and education in their proper use. Lance had wanted to fly but instead, they had put the shackles of war onto him and demanded him to wear them with pride.

 

But shooting ─  it came to Lance like walking came to a child, with hard work at first but later he shot as easily as he took a breath. He changed out his uniform and into his black pants and shirt, identical to Pidge’s and Hunk’s. He picked up his rifle, and froze for a second when he saw what was laid out on the seat. His throwing knives.

Lance chuckled and shook his head, he told Hunk not to worry about them after had lost them a few weeks earlier. He picked up the leather band with a total of six knives. Tension drained from his shoulders as he tied the leather band around his thigh and shouldered his rifle. He felt the familiar weight of his weapons and finally felt  _ safe _ , like the thing inside of him that had been anxious and restless like a bird in a cage finally had come to rest.

 

But they were still on the run and far from safe. The moment dawn broke they would be fair game, their faces plastered across the country and anyone could kill them without having to face any consequences. He couldn’t imagine his mother’s face, when she would see his, framed by the red letters of ‘ _ WANTED’ _ , but guilt tore at his conscience and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

 

A knock on the window brought him out of the depths of his thoughts and Lance lifted his head. Kogane started gesturing for him to open the door so he could get Officer Shirogane inside. It took a bit of scrambling and shifting and  _ lots _ of colourful language to get him in an upright sitting position, with his back leaning at the door and his legs squished behind the passenger seat.

 

Lance hopped out of the car and walked up to where Pidge, Hunk and Kogane where looking at the maps and planning their route. 

“We’ll have to turn here, to get to my shack─”

“Your  _ shack?  _ What are you? A hermit?” 

Lance couldn’t hold back the comment and was already snorting by the time Hunk threw him an exasperated glare, usually the one translating to ‘ _ Lance? Really?’.  _ It was one of his favourites only topped by the ‘ _ I cannot believe you just said that.’.  _ Granted they were very much the same but still.

 

“Who are you calling a hermit, cargo pilot?” Kogane crossed his arms, but kept his voice low, as if to not disturb the officer in the car behind them. Not that it would make any difference, the Officer had already lost consciousness a while ago.

“You, obviously. Unless you see another person sporting a mullet and admitting to own a shack.”

“It’s  _ not _ a mullet!” Kogane threw up his hands in exasperation and Lance couldn’t help but cackle at the crack in his voice.

 

“Guys,  _ focus _ .”, Pidge snapped. She enlarged the holographic map with a swipe of her hand and twisted it to the direction of where they were headed. “So we are here,” She pointed to a little green dot in the map,  “and we are currently headed out here, to the Free City of Arus.”

The map shifted and Lance watched with barely concealed awe as the holographic map of the city of Arus appeared. The years at the Garrison should have stolen his marvel at technology but it has always managed to evade the prying fingers of routine and discipline.

 

“It has been under Galran rule for half a year now and the guards have started to slack off. My mum owns a house there, the locals think it’s been abandoned. If we could manage to get into the city unseen, we’d be able to hide out the first few weeks of desertion until the broadcastings stop.” The map twisted and zoomed again, this time by Hunks doing. “This is the house.

 

“But Arus had been under heavy guard since the failed uprising two months ago.” Kogane injected, frowning. Lance’s eyes traced the line of his strong eyebrows for longer than he should and tried to burn it into his memory to imitate it later, a habit of his childhood he never really lost.

 

Lance stared at the map, narrowing his eyes. “Pidge, zoom out again.” He focused on the shapes of the buildings and the height of the rooftops. They were high and tight enough that sniping would be ridiculously easy. Their surfaces were almost as flat and even as the streets below them and the tight alleys, which led through the city like a river that had been allowed to carved its own path. They w

were too tight to have more than just a patrol on foot.

Lance could feel Kogane’s gaze on his skin, could feel it tickle and trace the lines of his face but he didn’t turn his head. Instead, he turned to Hunk. 

“The way the streets are built leaves snipers on the rooftops as their only choice. The Alleys are too tight for heavy Galran patrol so they have to keep track of the people from above.” The map spun again, twisted into a three dimensional model of Arus. We can’t go in over the rooftops--it would be impossible to sneak past so many snipers at once--so the streets are our only option.”

Pidge nodded, the blue light of the hologram reflecting off of her glasses. “Hate to interrupt,” she said as she pulled out a hand-held device that looked surprisingly similar to a mobile phone, “But we have to get going. Whatever planning we have left to do, has to happen in the shack.”

Lance couldn’t suppress the snort by the thought of a hermit shack in the middle of a desert because it fitted so perfectly into Kogane’s lone wolf aesthetic that it almost hurt. Lance felt Kogane’s annoyance even though he had already turned to the car. He snickered and turned as well. Well, that now only left one question ─ 

“ _ Shotgun!” _ , three voices yelled out at the same time.

Kogane just threw them an exasperated look that showed exactly how done he was with them.

“You do know one of us actually has to drive right? And it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. Not unless you’re in for another near-death experience.”

Hunk and Lance looked at each other. One of them had to drive, obviously ─ only a lunatic would let Pidge even near a steering wheel ─ but who?

“Huuunk.”Lance crooned, throwing his arm around him.

“No.”

But Lance wouldn’t let a deadpan stop him, pfff he was better than that.

“My love, my buddy, my pal.” Hunk only rolled his eyes, so used to his antics that he didn’t even say anything. “You know that I  _ hate _ driving.” He threw him his puppy eyes, which in fact were  _ invincible _ . They were born out of being the middle child in a family with seven children and being the one that constantly fucked up the most. Just a bit… just a little more─

And Hunk cracked like an egg.

“Two conditions,” He held up two fingers, but that couldn’t stop Lance’s smug grin at the prospect of getting what he wanted. “Pidge gets shotgun─”

“Aww man, not cool. Is she even tall enough to look over the dashboard?”

“I’m tall enough to hit you in the face, you idiot!”

“Oh really? Using a ladder doesn’t count.”

“Bast─”

“ _ Anyway,”  _ Hunk cut off their banter, “second condition: We switch when we’re halfway there,” He laughed as he saw Lance’s smug grin melting off his face like ice cream in the sun. 

”You wouldn’t be able to read the map anyway.”

So that’s what brought him to his current situation. Squished against Kogane in the tiny back seat with the still unconscious officer sleeping against the window. The only thing illuminating the inside of the car was the blue light of the map, constantly twisting and turning in Pidge’s capable hands. Her whispered instructions (“head northeast”, “turn a little to the right.”) and the mix of their breathing was the only thing disrupting the silence that had settled around them.

Usually, it would have bothered him, he came out of a home of nine, so silence was about as rare as a solar eclipse but right now he was on a mission. He sat leaned against the door, with his torso and face turned to Kogane and his calves pressed against him, shoulder to hip. It was the only way they would have fit. Hunk had to move his seat so far back ─  _ damn him and his stupid height _ ─ that there was no possible way that Lance’s legs would have fit behind him. Kogane, on the other hand, didn’t seem like he was losing feeling in his feet any time soon ─ lucky bastard.

But hey, Lance was the kind of person that would always look at the bright side of things, so he clearly saw that his current point of seating gave him the opportunity to watch and observe. 

And that he did.

His eyes traced the lines of Kogane’s face, traced along the strong edge of his jawline and a faded scar at his neck. He tried to guess which part of the Altean Empire exactly he came from. The low bridge of his nose and the set of his eyes suggested south-east but he was too pale and his jawline was too sharp so he couldn’t be sure.

Also, he didn’t speak like the southerners spoke like they were too lazy or just couldn’t be bothered to pronounce half of their words. Sentences slurring together like one giant word. No, he spoke clearly and more like Lance himself than anything else.

The drive dragged on and on and the puzzle of Kogane filled and filled. Lance watched the way he held his shoulder which suggested tension even when he was sleeping or the way his hand was constantly curled around something in the pocket of his tacky red jacket, meaning he didn’t trust them quite yet.

He faded in and out of sleep and wakefulness, only to find Kogane’s burning eyes, seemingly too dark to make out any colour at all, on himself. He was tempted to open his eyes fully, to stare him down until he averted his eyes, but sleep was already luring him back to unconsciousness before he could even finish the thought.

Time dragged on and on but when it was time for Lance to switch with Hunk, he couldn’t help but mourn the loss of warmth against his legs and the weight he had grown used to over the hours.

Kogane’s shack was exactly how Lance expected it, lived in and messy. An arsenal of weapons leaned against the side of the door frame. Lance frowned as he saw the sword among them, its blade thin and its hilt carved out of some sort of stone that seemed to swallow the light around it.

“You still have your sword,” he thrust his chin in direction of the blade and gauged Kogane’s reaction. He didn’t expect a straight answer not when distrust was written all over his face. But he was wrong. Lance barely hid his astonishment when he did receive a sincere answer. 

“They don’t know I still have it,” he paused for a second, as if lost in thought, then continued, “don’t think they care either.” Lance didn’t know how to answer, not when Kogane suddenly seemed to show feelings like remorse when he didn’t have to. So many years at the Academy made it hard to see a deserter express anything other than hostility. 

Hunk heaved the officer inside and lowered him on the shoddy mattress on the floor. There were metal springs peeking through the stained, threadbare fabric and winced at the back pain Kogane must have. The mattress looked like the ones relatives would pull out the farthest and darkest corner of their basements when Lance and his family would have to stay over because  _ someone _ couldn’t hold his liquor. 

_ Chronic back pain brought to you by yours truly since 1975. _

Pidge came in last, her feet completely silent on the floor. “Hunk, help me with the planning. Lance make sure Shirogane doesn’t die.” Her voice commanded respect as easily as she handled tech and science. 

Lance was already moving towards the Officer when a vice grip around his wrist held him back. Kogane didn’t say anything, but the glare that pierced Lance was strong enough to melt glass. Lance flinched but didn’t back down. Instead, he straightened his spine and glared right back. Their eyes met and seconds passed. 

“I’m making sure the doctor in the infirmary didn’t overdose him. Unless you want our friend here dying from a seizure, you should let me go, Mullet.” Kogane sized him up, looking for something that even suggested dishonesty. An effort in vain. Even if he had been lying, Lance had years of acting in a family full of entertainers and performers behind him. If he wanted to lie Kogane wouldn’t even have noticed.

“Fine,” Kogane snapped crossing his arms, “But keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Will do.” His tone was dripping with annoyance and he was  _ this close  _ to rolling his eyes at Kogane.

“Move” He pushed Kogane out of the way, maybe rougher than strictly necessary, but Lance was nothing if not petty. He kneeled next to the unconscious body and felt his wrist. 

“Pulse and temperature both normal. No overdose, thank God, that would’ve been ugly.” Kogane only huffed in response and Lance felt exasperation rise in him until he saw the hard lines of his shoulders soften and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing for a bit. Relief, right there, if you knew how to look for it.

He made an effort to soften his voice.“He will be awake by sunrise. Probably be a bit groggy but that’s to be expected.”He got up and turned to face Kogane. 

“You should try to catch some sleep. You look terrible.”

Kogane only raised an eyebrow at his jab, but his eyes were fixated where Hunk and Pidge were hunched over the map on the table. Like everything in this room, owner of said shack included, it looked like it had had one all-nighter too many and was hair’s breadth away from collapsing.

“We won’t kill you in your sleep and we won’t hurt him either,” Lance softened his voice further and held Kogane’s doubting gaze. How could they harm someone like him, someone that already carried the weight of the world on his shoulders? “Promise.” 

Kogane sighed and carded his fingers through his hair.“Fine.” 

He sat down next to the mattress leaning against the wall in a way that wasn’t even a little bit comfortable but Lance wasn’t stupid enough to say anything. He was already turning when Kogane spoke again.

“Thank you…” He trailed off, eyes staring expectantly up at Lance, waiting for him to get the hint.

Lance scrambled to comply. “Lance! Lance McClain.”

“Thank you, Lance.” 

And with one little lift of the corner of his mouth, that might have been the beginning of a smile, he was asleep and left Lance standing there red-faced and stunned at the warmth spreading in his chest.

 

* * *

Keith didn’t expect hysterical laughter to be the first thing he heard on this fine morning but his life apparently hated him.

His head shot around to find Shiro losing it. The laughter had given way to tears and he stared at him like he expected him to disappear at any given moment. “ _ Keith…?” _ Tears shot up in Keith’s eyes when he saw the confusion and tentative hope on his face, the sound of his voice so broken and small that it hurt.

He threw his arms around Shiro, eyes filled to the brim with tears and his heartbeat leaving a dent at his temples. He buried his face in the crook of his neck. Shiro’s arms also came up, wrapping around him and hugging back just as fiercely. 

“Shiro..” He couldn’t believe that breathless thing was his voice. But he didn’t care,  _ how could he, _ he had Shiro back, the only family he ever had, the only family he would ever have. 

“It’s me! It’s me! I told you I would come back!”

It was almost dreamlike, like euphoria. But all great things had to come to an end and his end was called Lance.

“I see how it is, we haul him out of the Garrison and drag his unconscious ass all the way into the middle of a desert. But yeah, _ he _ came back to him.” The words were whispered but Keith stiffened regardless. He had already forgotten about the Garrison trio that he had stumbled across last night. He slowly disentangled himself from Shiro and subtly tried to hide the tracks of dried tears on his face.

Shiro turned to them and mustered them one by one till his eyes fell to Pidge.

_ “Matt?!”  _  He wheezed, not far from hyperventilating.

“Not exactly. Try again.” She tried and failed to hide the wobble in her voice, as tears glittered in her eyes and Keith saw her smile for the first time.

“Katie?!” Keith blinked and Shiro had slung his arms around Pidge, crushing her against his chest without any intention of letting her go again. Lance and the big guy looked just as clueless as Keith himself and watched the spectacle with wide eyes. Keith winced at the crack of his back as he got on his feet, his eyes never leaving the hug, that might as well just have consisted of one person at this point.

The big guy cleared his throat and Pidge and Shiro released one another. Keith could still see the shine of undried tears on Shiro’s face as he turned to Lance and Big Guy.

“And you are?” Keith frowned. Shiro just woke up from a 36-hour long coma, after having disappeared for an entire year and was  _ still _ better at talking to people than Keith. Lance’s face light up and it was like watching the sunrise. His eyes crinkled and his grin lit up his entire face.

“Lance McClain, Sir.” Lance reached out to shake his hand and didn’t even bat an eye at Shiro’s prosthetic. Shiro turned towards Big Guy.

“Hunk Garrett, Sir.” He smiled just as wide and Keith saw immediately how well Lance and Hunk fitted together as friends. Years of living with different families honed an eye for those types of bonds between people, the way their mannerism would develop until they matched.

“None of that, Sir-Business, not if I owe you my life.” 

Shiro turned so that he could face all of them and Keith could feel how Shiro’s gratitude settled in the room like stones. His gratitude was, unlike other people’s, not light, wasn’t shallow, it was heavy and deep as an ocean. 

“I would love to say that it’s no big deal, but yeah we’re awesome like that,” Lance cocked his head, a smug smirk playing at his lips. His smugness wasn’t long-lived, though, Pidge buried her elbow in his ribs and had him dramatically wheezing.

“The  _ betrayal─ ” _

“What he‘s actually trying to say,” Hunk interrupted and shot him a look before turning to Shiro, his face open but serious.“Don’t thank us, at least not yet. Not until we’re safe.”

And with that their banter and the lightness of it drained out of the room.

“What happened to you?” Keith cursed himself when he heard his voice crack but he couldn’t help himself as he looked at Shiro, let his eyes wander over the scars, fearing that if he stared too long, took a wrong breath, that all of him would disappear. His gaze roamed over the scar on his nose and the patch of white strands falling in his eyes. Even Keith’s euphoria of having Shiro back couldn’t distract him from the fatigue in his eyes. Fatigue, that spoke of things he didn’t even want to imagine.

“I… I─” he trailed of, his eyes looking through Keith rather than at him. Shiro took a deep breath and Keith couldn’t help but notice his trembling hands. Shiro balled a fist, his prosthetic squeaking under the strain. “The last thing I remember is walking back to the Garrison. I don’t know where I was coming from, don’t know how I got there. I remember arriving there and them putting me under. The rest a blur.”

Keith knew Shiro long enough to know when he was lying, to know when he wasn’t stating the whole truth. But he wouldn’t press, at least not with the Garrison Trio still there.

Silence hung in the room, heavy and leaden.

“Soo..”, Lance drawled, “What’s the plan?” It was like someone had switched the flip with Hunk and Pidge. Pidge brought up the map of Altea. The country stretched over the entire northern hemisphere was separated from the Galran empire by the Strip, a river that ran across the globe like a bracelet. Keith furrowed his brows the sight of it.

Altea was gigantic, truly massive, reaching from the farthest north where there were days with eternal sunlight and nights that didn’t end, to the farthest south where artists complained they didn’t have enough colour to capture it all. It was  _ massive  _ and Keith hadn’t seen any of it.

Hunk zoomed in on their current location. “We’re currently here. Around 250 kilometres away from the Garrison. We’re headed to the free city of Arus. At least... we three are. We don’t know… like, I mean─”

“What Hunk is trying to say is,” Pidge interrupted when Hunk was clearly fumbling with words, “We’re headed to the free city of Arus and it’s up to you to come with us. The Garrison officials are still looking for us and will sooner or later be able to trace us back to this shack, so it wouldn’t exactly be safe for you to stay here.”

“Yeah, with you as a deserter and you as an alleged traitor,” he pointed to Keith and then to Shiro,” Neither of you would be safe if the Garrison decides to give you a surprise visit.”

Keith caught his lower lip in his teeth. His eyes wandered over the shack, the place he had come to call his home. He saw the shabby stove with his Ramen from a week earlier, his weapons leaning against the wall and the doorframe, his whetting stone. Then his eyes trailed to Shiro and he saw the restlessness in his eyes and limbs, the way his prosthetic was constantly shifting and twitching. He wouldn’t bear to stay here, so Keith wouldn’t either.

“I’ll go with you.” 

There wasn’t a world where Shiro couldn’t be his home.

here was a determined glint in Hunks eyes and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth when he heard his answer. “Okay, then we need a change of plans.”

 

* * *

Lance proved to be the epitome of annoying. Seemingly unable to sit still for even a minute, it took Lance around two hours to get Keith to the point of actually thinking of breaking his fingers. The constant drumming against the window was driving him crazy and the bastard  _ knew  _ it. 

“Would you  _ stop?”  _ Lance didn’t even bat an eyelash at his growl and just threw him a smirk and started drumming faster. Keith would kill him and he would make it slow and he would make it painful.

His shack was less than a speck at the horizon as they drove through the desert. The day had been spent with, gather whatever little tools and things they had and planning their next move. Pidge and Lace were still plotting how all of them would get into Arus without getting caught. A feat about as likely as winning in the lottery. But something Keith had learned about the course of the hours spent with the trio, if there were a group of people capable enough to beat any odds imaginable into a bloody pulp than it was definitely these three. 

“So...─,” Shiro started, ending the silence that had settled around them for so long that breaking it felt like reviving a muscle that had gone numb, “What brought you into the desert?” 

The trio tensed. Lance‘s fingers came to a halt and Keith turned his head. Lance’s eyes carried a dark look and his entire demeanour changed. His shoulders curved forward, folding in on themselves, as the grip on his legs tightened. 

A beat of silence, then ─ 

“We found something out… something we weren’t supposed to know.” Lance started, his voice unsure. “Things have changed a lot at the Garrison since you dropped out.” His fingers curled into a fist on top of his knees. Keith frowned.

“The Galra have taken over the majority of the country and for our safety─”Pidge scoffed, the sound disparaging and cold, “we couldn’t see our families… or leave at all for that matter…,” Hunk trailed off. His voice didn’t change while he spoke, still sounded steady and calm as he spoke but Keith could, even of the dim lighting of the car, see his that knuckles had turned white around the steering wheel.

“What did you find out?” Shiro asked. Even though the question was posed hesitantly Keith felt the weight of it like a stone. Another moment of silence but Pidge wasn’t having any of that.

“We found out that you weren’t dead and that Matt and my Father were alive.” For a moment all that was heard was the rumble of the engine and Shiro’s sharp inhale. “They told you that we were  _ dead _ ?”

“They told everyone that you abandoned the Altean crown and the Garrison and betrayed us. You were traitors killed at the bank of the Strip.” Lance spoke slowly like could dampen the effect of his words. It didn’t.

“We couldn’t believe it when we heard of you were on Garrison grounds and they hadn’t  _ told  _ us, hadn’t done anything to clear your name.” Lance’s voice turned acidic at those words.

Keith had raged and rioted after he had heard the news. Garrison officials had had to restrain him before they could even tell him the entire lie. Keith still felt the wire they had used to tie him to the chair on his wrists. The marks had taken weeks to fade entirely. Grim satisfaction had rushed through him when he had spat at Iverson’s face. Not only an hour later he had packed his bags and had left the Garrison behind him forever.

Shiro remained silent. His prosthetic creaked as he balled a fist and held it tight. Keith wanted to reach out and comfort him, wanted to do something to take the pain away he saw in the tension of his shoulders and the slight tremble of his hand. But he had never been good at comfort, never good at trying either. So he didn’t.

The car fell silent for awhile, save for Hunk’s and Pidge’s muttered instructions until Shiro broke the silence again. “Why do all of you carry weapons?”

“The Garrison made all of us specialise on two weapons when the war broke out, said it was special protocol,” Keith answered without looking at him. A silver glint on Lance’s thigh had caught his eye instead but the rest of Lance’s leg obscured it, so he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“In case the Galra were able to march in further into the country we should be the school's last line of defence“ Bitterness coated Lance’s voice and stung in Keith’s ears. It wasn‘t right that someone so vibrant could sound so dark and bleak. 

“Then the communication grid went down in the southern parts of the country. We…,” His voice broke and he cleared his throat, but even that didn’t stop the shaking of his hands. “ A major part of the students weren’t able to reach their families anymore, haven’t heard from them in weeks.”

Keith's gaze never left Lance. His voice turned into something hard and purposefully distant, it was as if the things he was talking about didn’t actually affect him. It obvious that he was affected, he had the tan complexion and the bold facial features from the people of the south-west.

“I’m sorry about that,” Shiro actually sounded like he was like it was somehow his fault that Lance and Hunk weren’t able to reach their families. Lance seemed to hear it as well, he lifted his gaze and shot Shiro a small smile, the first beam of sunshine after the rain had passed.

They fell silent again, save for muttered instructions every now that was easy to drone out as Keith slipped in and out of sleep. He was bone-deep exhausted, the muscles in his neck and back coiled tight and sore. But sleep didn’t come, or rather rest didn’t come, there was too much, to think about, too much to be aware of. It was like a hook that had buried itself deep in his consciousness and hauled him back every time he started to slip too far.

Keith forced his eyes open, his eyelids leaden and burning. He had to stay awake, he didn’t know what they could encounter, didn’t know when he could be needed. The skin of the left side of his face began to tingle ─ the tell-tale feeling of being watched ─ and he turned his head. Lance stared at him, didn’t even try to hide it. 

“What?”, he whispered, the sound almost swallowed by the rumble of the engine.

Lance merely shook his head, corners of his mouth lifted like he had seen something everybody hadn’t. A question, the same question but sharper, was already on his tongue but he never got to say it.

Within the span of a second the car shut down. Engine, dashboard, everything. There and then gone. Just like that Keith’s exhaustion.

“Kat─ Pidge, what’s wrong?”  Shiro tensed beside him and Lance’s fingers stilled.

“I don’t… know.” The words sounded wrong on her tongue, like a mispronounced word.  “Something is interfering with the signal of the map, it’s cutting through our GPS system”

“Is it the Garrison?” All amusement from earlier had fallen from Lance’s face when he straightened up in his seat to look out the back of the jeep. 

“Doesn’t look like it,” Shiro answered, also scanning the area. He put his hand on the door handle but his eyes remained on them. 

“Everyone got something they can defend themselves with?” Keith’s grip on his dagger tightened as he nodded. Shiro waited for everyone’s affirmation. When he had it, he began to count backwards.

“Three…, two…,” Keith’s pulse was hammering a dent into his temples.

“ _ One!” _

In an instant they were all out of the car, weapons drawn, eyes searching. But they were alone at least it seemed that way. They all crouched low and began to slowly rotate around the car, checking if their movement alerted something. 

It didn’t.

Keith straightened along with the others. None of them dared to make a sound. They knew better than to trust their perception just yet. Not when the air around them still thrummed with energy. Not when something changed the silence around them, morphed it into something that wasn’t natural anymore. 

Keith flinched as he caught a movement in the corner of his eye. His head shot around, ready to launch an attack, but then he froze. It was just Shiro. Keith made a strangled sound, the beginnings of hysteria abandoned halfway through. Shiro raised his arms in an appeasing gesture ─ or rather meant to do so.

When he tried to lift his hands only one them moved, the left one. Shiro’s eyes widened in horror when he stared down at his metal arm. Its violet glow had faded and for the first time since they had rescued Shiro, it hung completely still.

Pidge’s silhouette appeared next to Shiro and right along with it those of Hunk and Lance. Her hands curled around Shiro’s arm that hung limply in her grip. A spark flared up inside his chest, strong enough to lay cities to ashes. She shouldn’t touch him; he had suffered enough.

“It’s dead. Completely.” She turned it inside her grip, again and again. 

“But how?” Hunk stepped closer, eyes narrowing in thought.“Nothing touched him, we all would have noticed that.”

“A jammer?” Pidge and Hunk shared a look.

“But it would have to be  _ big. _ We’re talking  _ it needs its own room  _ kind of big, otherwise, it could never interfere with the jeep, the GPS-system, and his arm at once.”

“If it’s that big we should be able to see it. It is impossible to hide something that large in a desert.” Lance didn’t turn when he spoke. His hands remained on his rifle, eyes scanning the are over and over. Not an entire muscle in his body remained still. It was as if he absorbed the energy in the air around them

“Jammers only work in a specific distance-to-size-ratio.” Pidge turned to Hunk and shot him a meaningful look. A second passed, and then it dawned on him.

“ We’ve ruled out size. So whatever it is, it has to be close, really close, in order to work.”

Shiro who had until now just stood there staring down at his arm straightened at that. He struggled to banish the haunted look off his face as he regained control over himself. “We’re not alone then. Be on your guard.”

Keith drew his dagger and positioned himself next to Lance. “Move a bit more to the right. So that we can cover more ground.”

Keith shook his head. “I’ll stay here, otherwise there’ll be no way to protect the middle.” 

“I got it. You close up the gap on the left while I cover the right and the middle.

Keith shook his head again, glaring. “That’s too much for you to cover. You can’t do that alone.”

Lance glared fiercely. “ _ I said _ , I got it.”

“No, he’s right,” Shiro interjected, breaking their staring duel, and turned to Keith. “Stay where you are, I trust you to keep us safe on two sides.”

Keith nodded and readjusted the grip on his dagger. He felt Lance’s eyes linger, still burning, and let the corner of his lips curl into a smug smile, just a little bit. Was it necessary, no probably not, but he enjoyed it anyway. 

Lance turned away and raised his rifle. They all fell silent. Keith heard his heart hammer in his ears, his blood pounding in his veins. 

“Guys, are seeing that too?” Lance lowered his rifle and stared down at the sand in front of them. 

They all looked simultaneously like they were pulled by the same strings. And in some sense they were, fear was their puppeteer.

“What?“ Hunk asked.

Keith frowned and followed Lance’s gaze. But there was nothing, just darkness and sand.

“No, look at the sand,” Lance persisted, “Something is glinting.” Keith narrowed his eyes and stared harder and harder ─ he saw it. Shimmery little dots, hundreds and thousands of them that lined the sand, like stars lined the night sky.

“What is that?”

He got no answer. It wasn‘t until Keith started moving, that Lance shook off his astonishment. 

“The  _ fuck _ do you think you're doing?!” Lance gripped his wrist and spun him around, fuming. Adrenalin was burning in his veins and Keith could feel its flames tingling on his tongue as he spoke. 

“Finding out what that thing is,” Keith snapped, but Lance didn’t even flinch. He met the fire of his voice with the ice he carried in his eyes as he pinned him with a glare. Keith wrenched his hand free, angry red marks from where Lance’s fingers had bitten into his skin glaring back at him.

“How about we don't do that?” Hunk chimed in, his cheeks splotched a deep red, “Seriously guys, who looks at the thing that completely killed not only our jeep but our GPS system, and goes  _ Ahhh yes, let’s check that one out _ ?” 

In any other situation, Keith would find it at least mildly amusing that a guy of that size could just as easily sound like a frightened little school girl. But right now, he was wasting his time. 

“Pidge, what is causing this?” 

“I’m not sure.” Pidge narrowed her eyes as they travelled the innocently twinkling sand dunes.

“Okay so Pidge doesn’t know what it is, Lance and I sure as hell aren’t setting foot in that thing, Keith apparently is, so...” Hunk turned towards Shiro, dragging the sound. “As the only adult and being an actual officer it’s up to you. Make the call.”

Keith felt Shiro's unease, even though he didn’t see it. Any other person and he would have missed it. But Shiro had always been an exception to a lot of rules

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then he opened his mouth. “I think we shou─”

“I know what it is!” Lance interrupted him, looking overly pleased with himself. Keith rolled his eyes. Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a glamour! A very strong one, too.“

“How do you know this?” Shiro raised an eyebrow. 

Lance met his eyes and when he spoke again his voice sounded… different. Like someone had taken the vibrant enthusiasm behind them and dimmed until it was barely there. 

“There were countless of those when I was at the capital last summer.” Nevertheless, the words were coated in a softness only old memories could manage. Keith frowned, how someone could look back at their past and feel actual happiness would always remain a mystery to him.

.

“ _ You  _ were at the Capital?” A commoner setting foot in the Altean Capital was about as likely as catching a fallen star.  The city was a fortress, suspicious to intruders and completely isolated from the rest of the country. The only people that lived in the Capital were courtesans with distant relations to the royal family, those with enough money to swim in it and entertainers employed by the royal families. 

Lance answered his question with a voice forged of steel. “My family and I travelled a lot because of our shows. So, I was at the capital a couple of times.”  _ The third option then.  _ He wanted to ask further but he was cut short.

“So whatever is hidden behind the glamour is what’s causing the interference,” Pidge said her words slowed by thought. “The only people who have access to glamours and actually have the ability to use them, are the royal family─”

“ _ Which are all dead.” _

“Not all of them.” Pidge took her glasses off and put them on the front of her shirt. Hunk groaned. “I’m just saying they never found her body. No body, no death, am I right?”

“ _ Pidge _ .” Hunk sounded like he had heard the words one too many times. 

Keith raised an eyebrow and turned to Shiro but he seemed to as little of an idea as he had.

“Not the time for conspiracy theories.” Hunk rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“What are you talking about?” Shiro looked at the trio, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Crown Princess Allura,  _ who is dead.” _ Hunk shot Pidge a stern look.

“ _Allegedly._ ”, was the only thing she said before she dropped the subject. “So what do we do? We can sure as hell not remain here.”

The tension rose. 

“What else is there to do. Try to fight something we can’t see?”  Hunk threw an anxious look at the twinkling lights. “Break the glamour? You can’t break the glamour. Can you break the glamour?  _ Lance? _ ” His voice rose by at least a pitch and he was heaving by the time his flurry of questions had passed. Pidge put a hand on his biceps.

Lance cocked his head. “You can, actually. Think of glamours like a curtain. Once you know they are there, you can walk right through them.”

“So, we actually  _ can  _ go in?” Lance nodded. The desire to go made Keith twitch. Their game field had changed. With that  _ thing _ in front of them, their next move should be clear. And yet…  For a second there was nothing more than the sound of their combined breathing, then─ 

“Shiro, make the call.” Four pairs of eyes turned towards Shiro

“We’re going in.”

Though he tried to hide it, Keith still heard the tremble in his voice.

 

* * *

The tingle of the glamour was a weird but familiar sensation on his skin. They had used them countless times for their shows before. Had rubbed them into the silks that would lift them into the air. The feeling of fabric remained but to anyone else it would like they were flying.  _ Why do we use them if anyone can see right through them?,  _  he had stared up at his father, eyes wide with the genuine curiosity. His father’s answer had stuck with him until today.  _ We see what we want to see. So if the people want to see us without our silks then that’s exactly what they’ll do. _

The  _ thing  _ ─ didn’t know what to call it otherwise ─ in front of them just proved his father right. There could have been no way Lance could have imagined it, so just seeing nothing instead was so much easier. What they found had his jaw on the floor. Sleek white metal twisted and moulded into thin, sweeping towers reaching all the way up to the stars themselves. It was ─ for lack of a better word─ a castle built to breach the skies. 

And it had a door too, how convenient.

“So, that is unexpected.” Lance could make out the goosebumps spreading over her bare forearms that definitely didn’t come from the cold of the desert. She rubbed her palms along the seam of her pants, a nervous habit he had told her about once. She scoffed and dismissed it.

“We’re going in then?” Shiro looked at all of them, waiting for anyone to deny. A beat of silence passed, then the air changed… no, the air was changed ─ by them. 

Because where before there had been students─ runaways, _ deserters _ ─ now were soldiers.

They approached the door in silence. Shiro put his hand on the handle and hesitated. It was as if even the sand beneath their feet held its breath. Shiro pushed and the door creaked open, the sound deafening in the silence.  _ Arms in, crouch low, walk heel to toe _ , replayed in his head. Muscle memory took over then and did as it was told.

They came into some sort of entrance hall, a circular room filled with pillars reaching up and up and up until they met under a round window, the only source of light. Their breathing echoed as they walked towards the middle of the room. The air in here thrummed with energy, even more so than it did outside. It was almost unbearable.

When they reached the middle they formed a circle. Back to back, weapons drawn. They were ready to fight whatever it was that waited for them in these halls.

But they never got the chance.

The door they had left slightly ajar after they had entered slammed shut with an ear-shattering bang. As if on cue, they were engulfed in glaring blue light. Lance squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again they were jammed together in a cage like livestock. The bars kept glowing, though much softer.

Their light illuminated almost the entire rest of the hall. Lance‘s gaze wandered over the walls adorned with royal carvings and the Altean colours blue and white. They were made out a smooth shiny metal and reflected a distorted picture of them back at him.

“What do we do now?” Lance heard himself ask. He felt like someone had stuffed his ears with cotton. The cage filled the air with an electric tremor, its raw power igniting fear and dizziness.

“Who are you?” Lance flinched at the female voice. His entire right side collided with the cage and white-hot pain exploded in his side. His yell of pain was cut short when he felt multiple hands dragging him upwards and holding him there as his body seemed to have stopped working completely.

“Are you okay?” Pidge asked, her voice filled with panic. Blood rushed through his ears as black spots stole his vision and took its place instead. The ground beneath his feet swayed─ right to left, left to right. _ God please, someone make it stop _ . 

But still, he nodded even though his body contradicted his lie. He could feel rather than hear Keith scoff behind him. Hunk held him upright while he felt Keith’s hand in the small of his back steadying him further. 

“Who are you?” Shiro's form was traced in blue light, lines bold. His voice rang with respect.

“You are not in the position to ask questions right now,” the female snapped, her voice sharp as a blade, “I repeat myself,  _ who are you? _ ” The electricity in the bars surged, their hum turning penetrant and impossible to ignore. A warning.

But Shiro didn’t even flinch nor did he change his demanding tone of voice.

_ Altean _ was the first thought that crossed Lance’s mind.  _ I’ve seen her before, but where? _ was the next one. Her eyes red-rimmed and swollen as she had been crying and also the rest of her body showed obvious traces of her exhaustion. The slight tremble in her fingers, dullness of her skin, all gave her away. But what caught his eyes the most were two pink triangles right beneath hers. He had seen markings like that before.

The memory of him and his family performing in the capital in front of the Altean Court, replayed in his mind. Applause and fanfare filled his ears. Him and his family standing side by side in front of the royal family, King Alfor and Queen Roanna clapping and smiling with their daughter right beside them. Hundreds of people, all wearing markings on their faces.

“I am Officer Takashi Shirogane and I am part of the Special Operations Unit at the Garrison.”

“Why does a Garrison Officer wear Galra tech on his skin?” Her words burned like acid even in Lance’s ears but Shiro’s voice remained calm.

“I was a Galran prisoner. This,” he gestured to his limp metal arm, “happened during my captivity.”

The woman paused, frowning in thought. “What tells me that that isn’t a tracker, put there to find me? That there isn’t any backup, locked unto your position just waiting for an opportunity to strike?”

“I said─ “

“I know what you said. But do you really expect me to believe you? That you were captured and somehow made it out alive?” She pinned him with a glare and crossed her arms.

Shiro’s shoulders began to tremble and his voice shook with them as he forced himself to answer. “I only remember flashes from my time with them.”

“Elaborate.” 

“Fighting Pits. Monsters grown in labs and tested on prisoners. Crowds and applause…,” he trailed off, each word pained but said nonetheless. 

But the women just lifted her eyebrows obviously demanding more.

“I can’t tell you more.” Shiro was full on shaking but he still stood tall. It was one of the most painful things to watch.

“Maybe about how you found me? This entire ship is coated in glamours stronger anyone could imagine, there is no way you being here is just a mere coincidence.”

Lance stared at her face, the flat nose, the full lips. She obviously had the features of a capital inhabitant but where had he seen her before? He cocked his head, frowned and kept on staring until ─  it clicked.

He forced himself in a more upright position, his bones and muscles groaning in protest, before he spoke, “We come in peace, Princess. We mean no harm.” There were sharp

intakes of breath and all eyes went to him. Her brows furrowed and her posture hardened.

“What makes you think that? You’re not from the capital and there haven’t been any pictures of the Princess in over a decade.” She had a point. It was a tradition that there were no pictures or videos made of the heirs to ensure at least a little bit of privacy. No one knew what the princess looked like unless they had been at court before

Lance felt her stare and those of the others crawl over his skin like bugs. “I’ve been to the capital a few times. I’ve seen you before.” He couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice and desperately tried to stay upright.

“My family and I performed at court for the Solstice Festivals in winter and summer.”

She pierced him with her blue eyes, their stare hard and unrelenting. Lance wanted to hide inside a hole. 

But then ─  “I remember you.” Her voice softened but she didn’t lower her guard, “McClain, isn’t it? The  _ Circus of dreams…  _ You performed for us last year.”

Lance nodded weakly. It had been a gamble to hope that she remembered his family. But they had been performing in the capital for generations now. “Our last show before… “ he fell silent, the words lodged in his throat.

She let out a breath and her shoulders slumped. The movement was tiny, unnoticeable for the most but Lance saw it immediately. She waved her hand, graceful, yet slow as if she were dragging an invisible weight, and the blue light disappeared but the cage remained.

“What happened to you?” Pidge crossed her arms and move towards Shiro’s side. Even though she knew now that it was the Princess she was talking to, her tone remained hard.

Black spots were still dancing in his vision and he was leaning more and more on Hunk as time went on. The rushing in his ears drowned out everything said. He frantically tried to swat at Hunk’s arm but he didn’t even have the strength to lift his arm. He gasped. 

His legs gave out, finally too weak to support him any longer and his knees hit the floor. The grip on his arm tightened, pain exploded in his entire body.

A sea of panic voices, the tide rising and rising then ─ nothing.

 

* * *

The yelling lasted for what seemed like hours. 

Hunk had sunk to the floor after Lance had suddenly collapsed, his head pillowed on his lap. He refused to even let the Princess come near him.

“ _ I  _ will patch him up. _ ” _ His voice didn’t leave room for any argument. His brows furrowed and his voice carried effortlessly through the empty room. He had carried Lance without any sign of fatigue through half of the ship and had laid him down on one of the beds in the infirmary like he was made of glass.

“Blankets, Bandages and burn cream.  _ Now.”  _ The Princess bristled at the lack of respect. But Hunk just lifted his head and threw her a withering glare that made Keith shiver from his position a couple of feet behind her. Hunk didn’t have time for anything right now and even she caught on to that. Within moments she handed Hunk everything he demanded and didn’t even blink at his lack of gratitude.

“Any injuries?” Pidge was glued to his side, her eyes never once leaving Lance’s unconscious body. 

“Other than the massive burns on his side, no” Pidge took the blanket Allura offered her without even acknowledging her. Hunk opened the burn cream and started spreading it on Lance’s skin, his movements were precise, without any hesitation. Keith bit his lip, the two seemed almost too used to this type of procedure.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. He was already turning, knife safely in his grip when he realised that it was just Shiro. The tension left his shoulders and if Shiro noticed his reaction he didn’t say anything.

“Maybe we should give them some space.” His gaze didn’t leave the trio in the middle of the room and Keith could easily read the concern in his face. While it was obvious that he couldn’t do anything to help right now ─ He had failed the Garrison mandatory first aid course not once but  _ twice  _ ─ and Hunk and Pidge had everything under control. But, he clenched his fist, it felt  _ wrong  _ to just leave him there.

Lance’s soft voice was echoing in his head and it had been a long time since someone had actually looked out for him, even if it was just by taking care of Shiro. The gratitude he felt, both then and now, settled in his chest like a seed planted in soil and he wouldn’t let it wilt before it had the time to grow. He firmly shook his head at Shiro, who smiled, a tired and weary thing, in return. So they stayed. 

Keith’s eyes never left the movements of Pidge and Hunk which worked more like one person rather than two, rarely having to ask for what they needed from each other. It made Keith wonder how often Lance had gotten himself hurt before they had gotten that good at it.

“What did you do while I was gone?” Shiro's voice didn’t rise above a whisper and yet, Keith felt like someone had poured liquid lead in his ears. 

He wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, that he had neither slept nor eaten enough, that he had broken more rules that he had known existed to even find out a hint of what happened. That his eyes had burned countless holes into the walls of the shack, each of them bigger than the last. That he had gone to bed each night wishing tomorrow would never come but got up each morning and did the same.

But he couldn’t.

“I left the Garrison after the end of the semester.” He spoke slowly to soften the impact of his words. But Shiro didn’t react, at least not in any way Keith expected. He didn’t scold him or yell at him like any of his foster parents would, didn’t hit him either. He said nothing for what seemed like an eternity.

“After that? What did you do?” His voice was almost eerily calm, no hidden sharpness or anger, just concern and sorrow. Keith didn’t turn to look at him. He didn’t have the strength to and just left his eyes on Lance.

“I had found the shack a few weeks earlier and had been prepping ever since─” 

“You planned for this?” Still no anger, just confusion and pure disbelieve. Keith shrugged.

“I figured it would be only a matter of time. With me still at the school, there was still the chance that I would find something I shouldn’t, so I couldn’t stay.”

His tone, matter-of-fact and completely detached, didn’t fit what he was saying, he heard it himself but he didn’t have the nerve nor the energy to change it.

“You lived on your own.” A statement, not a question. They both already knew the answer. Keith nodded anyways, frowning at the tone of Shiro's voice. He sounded remorseful like it was somehow his fault that Keith had to live alone in the desert.

And some part of Keith wanted to blame him, wanted to yell and scream at him for leaving him like there weren’t enough who had done it before him. Some part of him wanted to tell him how it felt when he left. How he stared at the empty seat at the lunch table they usually ate together. How he was a shipman who had lost his compass and all the stars in the sky, who was drenched in eternal darkness and would never find the way home.

Keith finally turned his head towards Shiro, words already forming on his tongue. His eyes fell onto the scars on his forearm and on the one on the bridge of his nose, then wandered onto the white strands of hair falling into his eyes. Every fibre of Shiro's being screamed exhaustion and Keith felt bile rising in his throat.

The anger and the blame vanished from his mind making way for uglier and harsher feelings. 

Shiro had been through hell and worse and still came back to him, had faced things he couldn’t even imagine and Keith had the audacity to blame him for being gone? Disgust ran through his veins and Keith crossed his arms.

He didn’t have the right to be angry, didn’t have the right to blame Shiro, not when he had faced so much worse.

Keith stared at Shiro for a while and then turned again as if the sight burned him.

“I’m sorry I was gone.” The ugly and vile part in Keith rose again but he beat it and punched it until it remained silent.

“You don’t have anything feel sorry for.”

“I left you alone.”

“Not by choice.” Keith turned and glared at Shiro as he saw the guilt written across his face in bold letters.

“I chose to go on that mission, chose to leave you behind.” Keith shook his head.

“Don’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you either.”  _  Liar,  _ the thought taunted him but Keith didn’t listen. 

“Look, Shiro, I’m fine. I’ve been left behind before. So don’t worry about it.” Keith sounded harsher than he intended, and louder too, but Shiro didn’t flinch like most people did when Keith grew frustrated. He looked like he wanted to say something but the  _ whoosh _ of the opening doors interrupted him.

“ _ Coran!” _ The Princess’ voice tore through the room and Keith’s immediately tensed. The man─ Coran apparently─  that entered wore the same markings as the Princess but in blue. 

“Allura, half of the castle’s glamour is malfunctioning. What happened??” Coran traversed the room in a few long strides and didn’t pay attention to anyone but the Princess.

“That must be our fault.” Pidge chimed in from her position at the wall. Hunk and she had moved to the wall after they were done patching up Lance. Her voice was low as she spoke to not disturb Hunk who was sleeping with his head in her lap. She carded her fingers through his hair, the movement tender and slow, and Hunk remained completely undisturbed by what was going on.

“We walked through it when we entered.” She didn’t sound the least bit sorry that their actions had apparently caused damage. Which was good because Keith wasn’t either. 

“And you are?” Coran turned, stroking his moustache, eyes twinkling with curiosity. Even though nothing in his stance or facial expression even suggested that he meant harm Keith couldn’t drop the tension out of his shoulders.

“They are… were cadets at the Garrison and ran into our castle by accident.” Allura explained. 

“And what did you do with this poor fella?” He thrust his chin in Lance direction.

“Quintessential shock.”Coran nodded in understanding.

“A what now?” Pidge’s tone turned harsh as she glared at them, “We treated his injuries like he received an electric shock and you didn’t deem it necessary to maybe mention that it  _ wasn’t _ ?” She could barely keep quiet and even Keith could read the anger in her face.

“That’s because the side effects are the same. It doesn’t require a different treatment, so I didn’t say anything.”

“But still you can’t just keep such information to yourself, Your Royal Highness. What if Lance was seriously hurt?” Shiro frowned and took multiple steps closer towards the infirmary bed, Keith right on his heels. 

Keith frowned and anger rose and churned in the pit of his stomach. “You made us beg for your trust and  _ hurt  _ one of us to make sure we didn’t mean harm. And yet, you lie to us?”

“I did not lie to you!”

“Withholding the truth is as bad as lying,  _ Princess. _ ” The words tore from his mouth like the cracks of a whip and the guilt in the face of the Princess told him each of them hit their mark.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference─”

“And what if it did?” Pidge shot back, “What if Lance died right here, right now, just because  _ you _ thought it wouldn’t make a difference?” She clenched her hands into fists and her shoulders shook from anger. Keith unconscious backed away as he saw the murder in her eyes. 

Coran took a step forward, his hands raised in what was supposed to be a soothing manner. “I can look him over. I have experience with quintessence, I can make sure that there is no further damage.”

“ _ Don’t touch him.” _

Hunk woke, startled from her growl and blinked groggily. “You won’t touch him. I won’t  _ allow  _ it,” Her voice rose, a crescendo coloured in rage and worry, “Since we’ve been here you have done nothing but hurt him.”

“Pidge,” Hunk tried to soothe her, but his efforts were in vain. She turned her eyes to Coran and pinned him with a glare that could make a grown man crumble like a house of cards.

“You will tell me  _ exactly _ what quintessence is, what it does, and how we will have to treat him and if I see you as much as even breathe in his direction, I will make sure that you won’t inhale again.” Keith felt grim satisfaction when saw Coran’s shuddering breath. He wouldn’t let Coran or Allura touch any of them. Not until Lance was awake and he could see that he was alright.

Coran relented, not like he had another choice. He raked his finger through his silver-streaked auburn hair and began to explain.

“Quintessence is that what keeps everything around us, everything we see and everything we don’t, alive. It’s unique in every one of us.”

“So like a soul?” Shiro asked pensively.

“More or less. And when your Lance received a shock─”

“You mean when Our Royal Highness almost killed him.” She spat out the honorific like an insult and glared at the Princess. Coran winced but continued like she didn’t say anything.

“His body reacted like it received an electric shock. That means that all that you’ve done so far is good and if I could just check him over─”

“ _ Don’t you dare.”  _ Her northern accent, all hard edges and sharp sounds, moulded her words into arrows and not even Hunk’s hand on her shoulder could calm her.

“What would you checking him over do?” Hunk was a picture of calmness but you could still detect the worry and anger in his face and voice like fingerprints on a window.

“Well,” Coran drawled, “I would look over his quintessence, see if the sudden influx in power left any lasting imprints, and take care of those. So, since you two aren’t able to do that...”

Pidge  _ growled  _ but Hunk shot her a stern look. Their exchange lasted, a conversation without words, dragging on and on, until─

“ _ Fine,” _ Pidge relented, “but keep your hands where I can see them, and if anything happens…” She didn’t finish her threat, she didn’t have to.

They turned towards Lance and Coran lifted his hands. The markings on his cheeks and the ones at the backs of his hands began to glow. They filled the room up into the last corner, only to be outshone by something much brighter and warmer.

Golden tendrils of light curled around Lance’s body, pulsing and twisting. They never remained still, not for a second, much like Lance himself. And with light came warmth. It caressed his skin like rays of sunshine after a storm had passed.

It was as if someone had put him back into the south-east, the closest thing to a home he ever had. Where the sun wouldn’t be seen for months at a time and the day of the first sun was the biggest holiday in the year. Everyone would come out of their homes, even the old and the frail and the sick, to bask in its light and warmth.

“It’s…” Shiro trailed off, unable to find the words.

“... beautiful.” Keith hadn’t intended to speak, couldn’t keep the fascination out his voice either. Hunk and Pidge wore similar expressions of reverence and awe and even the Princess seemed mesmerised. 

Coran began to move his fingers in slow and smooth motions and the light parted. “All Altean courtesans and members of the royal family are born with the ability to manipulate and yield quintessence,” he explained, while his movement caused water-like ripples through the tendrils that tightened their grip around Lance.

Keith heard his voice but the sense of his words evaded him. His vision unravelled at his periphery gave away and made room for Lance and his light to fully consume him. It cost him all of his willpower not to come closer and arch into the light as if he could absorb it. Carve out a home for it between his ribs and keep it inside of him forever.

They watched the procedures for a while longer until Coran lowered his hands and the light faded. Keith bit his tongue to suppress the sigh of disappointment as the warmth disappeared with it.

“And?” Hunk threw Coran an expectant look, impatient to hear about his friend’s health.

“Everything is fine. He should wake up on his own in a moment” Even though there was nothing but hostility that he was met with Coran never showed a sign of malice or even annoyance. He remained annoyingly chipper.

The princess rose from where she had taken the seat against the wall and Pidge’s hands were already curling into fists. “What do we do─ ”

The most disgusting and ear-piercing sound tore from the speakers, mounted onto the walls and all of them collectively flinched. Keith’s hands shot towards his ears and he almost couldn’t hear his own voice as he yelled, “What the hell is  _ that _ ?!”

But neither Coran nor the Princess answered him or even stayed long enough to try. They bolted and vanished out of the door out into the hallway. Keith was moving before he even realised it and booked it right after them. He vaguely heard Shiro’s cursing and the thundering of his steps as he took off after him but he didn’t slow down.

He almost lost Coran and the Princess a few times, because they were so  _ goddamn fast, _ but he hadn’t been top of his class at the Garrison for nothing so he clenched his teeth and ignored the fire that ate his way through his lungs. 

He came to a skittering halt in the most peculiar room he had ever seen. The entire half in front of him was filled by a dashboard with hundreds and thousands of buttons with labels in a language foreign to him. He almost fell over when Shiro crashed into him, panting and mumbling curses under his breath, that he would later deny to ever have said but Keith didn’t take his eyes off what was happening.

The Princess and her adviser were immediately at the dashboard

“Coran!” Allura yelled over the blaring of the sirens.

“Already on it, Princess!” 

He started punching buttons in what appeared to be a random pattern. But Keith didn’t care what he did because after a few seconds the torturous sirens stopped and it felt like he could finally hear his own thoughts again.

Keith already opened his mouth to demand  _ what the hell was going on,  _ but the movement of the wall in front of the dashboard silenced him. The two halves of the wall parted and gave way to a gigantic screen. The video began to play and the sound of gunshots filled the room all the way up to the ceiling. The man who had small red-rimmed eyes widened in panic began to speak ─ or rather tried to. When he opened his mouth all that came out was nothing more than an anxious wheeze. Sweat rolled down his ebony skin, leaving clean trails amidst all the mud that caked his cheeks and forehead. He finally pulled himself together enough to speak, his voice trembling and broken.

“This is a distress signal from Avos Norania, mayor of the occupied City of Sorans. The population has been able to flee from the Galra but I come to you with a plea.”

An ear-shattering boom shook the entire room he was in. They couldn’t see exactly what was going on because his face filled the entire screen but it sounded like an entire wall had collapsed behind him. It boomed again once, twice, then more gunshots. Mayor Norania gave up trying to keep his face and just let sobs and tears shake his body. Keith’s chest clenched in sympathy.

“The Blade of Marmora has documents stored underneath the centre of Sorans which contain important information about Galran war strategy. It is crucial that those remain out of Galran hands. Please, I beg you─” A bang and then the video cut out.

The gunshots abruptly cut out and silence stepped up to take their place. “Princess…” Coran broke the silence. It was too soon, much too soon, but they were at war. Mourning was a luxury and their pockets were empty.  


“No.” The Princess pulled back her shoulders, eyes hardening to blue orbs of ice. Regalness and determination wrapped around her shoulders like an armour. And just like that, the mourning princess, with her head lowered and fists curled in agony, turned into a thing of the past. Something so foreign Keith was sure he had merely imagined it.

The echo of steps broke the silent stare between the Princess and her advisor. “What happened?” Pidge still wore a face of barely concealed hatred for the princess, knuckles white with tension, smudges of dirt and oil on her cheeks like war paint. Hunk loomed behind her like a giant, his expression neutral. The silent rock amidst the storm. 

They were a frightening picture, panting, cheeks streaked red with exertion.

“Distress signal. Sorans has fallen and the city has something we need. ”

“ _ We?”  _ Pidge stared at her in disbelieve.

“Yes, we.” The Princess pinned her with a glare but didn’t raise her voice. Pidge shook her head.

“May I remind you that there is currently one of us unconscious and burned  _ because of you! _ ” 

The Princess held her regal posture and nothing was more aggravating to Keith than this. She looked down on them, mere mortals in the presence of something stronger, something better, something that was  _ more. _ “No, you do not. But I expect you to not abandon those in need. It is your duty to the Altean crown-- ”

Pidge scoffed.

“The Altean crown? Which crown are you talking about? The ones in the Galran capitol put on display, still covered in your parents' blood or your own abandoned in the capital amidst cowardly royals that deem themselves too good to fight?” Pidge’s voice rose and rose until it smashed into the ceiling and let both her words and debris rain down on the Princess until she couldn’t stand anymore.

Keith watched the scene unfold in front of his eyes and couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Princess as he heard Pidge’s next words.

“Altea has fallen. You can call upon your crown as much as you want but it won’t answer, Princess, not anymore.”

The Princess’ eyes turned hollow but she didn’t answer, didn’t so much as blink when Coran put a hand on her shoulder. Keith’s skin began to crawl when he saw the look in her eyes. It was one of despair, one of being displaced and too hurt to find the way home.

Keith steered his glance to Shiro who had been scarily quiet at the entire exchange. Now he knew why his eyes had turned glassy and unseeing while his skin had gone so pale that it seemed yellow. Keith forgot about the Alteans in the room at once, how could he _ not _ when the person who was his family, whom he had  _ lost _ and gotten back looked like they were witnessing the end of the world.

“Shiro?” He whispered voice filled to the brim with panic, as he took a step towards him and gripped his hand. Shiro didn’t react and Keith’s heart jumped all the way up to his throat.

“Blade of Marmora…” Shiro muttered, his voice far distant. It pained Keith to see him like this, see his warm glow twisted into something harsh and scary. His usual air of bright hope and  _ trust me because  we both know you want  _ had been taken by the Galra and beaten and kicked until it was down and didn’t dare to rise again.

“Blade of Marmora…” Shiro said again, a flicker of something that hadn’t been there before in his voice. Keith tightened his grip. He wasn’t sure anymore whether it was to ground Shiro or just himself. Keith stared at him unable to do anything else. Shiro still wore that wrong hollowness on his face, still didn’t even flinch at the fingers that were biting into his arms and Keith felt like his heart was going to eat it itself.

Time felt like it didn’t exist anymore, dragged impossibly on and on until he was back. Just like that, like someone has snapped his fingers. He shook his head and the terror ended. Life returned to his eyes. Keith’s gaze caught his and Shiro turned remorseful at what he saw.

Keith, still reeling from what he just witnessed, blinked slowly. As if this Shiro, the Shiro that was actually here and not caught in nightmares and terrors only he could see, would vanish at any sudden movement. 

“Shiro?“

His question went unanswered by Shiro and unheard by the rest of the people in the room who had turned away to grant them some privacy. Shiro drew a shuddering breath and balled his fists to hide the tremble in them, to hide his weakness and portray a picture of strength. It was an effort in vain, his skin was pale and ashen and cold sweat gave it a sickly gleam. He couldn’t completely drop the tension from his shoulders as turned towards the rest of the group and his voice failed him when he tried to speak. 

He needed something,  _ anything really  _ to shift the focus away from them but words failed him. Like they always did. Sweat made his hands clammy and the tremble Shiro was desperate to hide now infected him like a contagious disease. Red sirens and warning signs blared inside his mind,  _ he had to fix this but how _ \--

And Hunk─  _ god bless him _ ─  fixed it for him. 

“What do those documents contain?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, muscles bulging and eyes hardening. The Princess turned towards him, poised to answer but Pidge was faster. “Why are we even talking about what’s in those damn documents?! She  _ hurt _ one of us! We’re not helping her!”

“ _ Pidge,”  _ Shiro’s voice cut through the room and she fell silent at once, she now glared at him with nothing short of murder in her eyes but she was silent. 

“What’s the Blade of Marmora? And what’s in those documents?” Keith asked. They would need to know what in them before they could decide whether or not they were worth risking their lives for.

Coran answered, now less chipper and much more serious than anyone thought possible “The Blade of Marmora is an underground web of resistance fighters. They have been fighting back against the Galra by freeing cities, channelling refugees to safety, infiltrating the Galra and ─ “

“Breaking out prisoners,” Shiro finished his sentence for him.

Keith put two and two together, his eyes widened. “You’re saying ─ ?” Shiro nodded, his face serious. 

“I don’t remember everything, there are still a lot of gaps but I remember hearing the name in Prison and then again when I got out.” He wouldn’t say more on that matter, so Keith didn’t press further.

“He’s right there have been about a dozen known cases where prisoners have escaped captivity and made it back to Altea. You are hardly the first.” Coran’s hand tailed absentmindedly over his light-blue cloak. “Those documents probably contain things such as Galran supply routes, possible future targets, prison layouts, prisoner logs ─”

Pidge’s head shot up. “ _ Prisoner logs? _ ” Her eyes were owlishly wide and she stared at Coran so intently that he took a few steps back.

Hunk turned to her. “You mean..?” he trailed of but she understood regardless.

“It could be. It would be the first thing in months!”

“Are you sure?”

“I have to at least try!”

“What’s happening right now?” Shiro whispered. Keith looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Do I look like I have any idea?” Shiro slightly lifted the corners of his mouth as if to say  _ guess you have a point  _ and Keith pointedly ignored the weight that lifted of his chest when he saw the tiny smile.

Pudge turned towards Coran and the Princess, determination burning so bright inside her that it shone right out of her skin. “What do we have to do to get those documents?” She was actually considering it now. 

“Pidge maybe you could explain what just happened? Not everyone knows your sob story,” drawled a voice from the door. They turned towards the door all tensed but it was just Lance. Leaning casually against the doorframe and sporting a teasing grin.

“Shut up!” Pidge flipped him the finger but it was obvious that her shoulders dropped in relief, hell even Keith’s own did.

Hunk was immediately at his sight fretting like a mother over her sick child but Lance batted his hands away, already used to this side of Hunk. “Look, I’m fine. Whatever you did, I’m fine. So focus!” Lance gripped his hands and forced him to look him in the eye. They held their position for a moment then they both smiled and the world was okay again.

Keith shook his head, friendships couldn’t possibly be that easy.

“Anyway,” Lance turned towards Pidge,” care to share with the class. Or at least with these two who have approximately no idea what just went down inside your head.” Pidge rolled her eyes at him but follow his suggestion without hesitation.

“My family was captured, as well and I am hoping to find them. If those documents hold the information I need…─ I at least have to try.” Her hands started shaking and she buried her teeth deep in her lower lip. It was the closest thing to vulnerability that Keith had seen.

“And we’ll be right beside you, just like we said.” Lance shot a small smile and Hunk laid a hand on her shoulder.

Shiro watched the three of them with a fond expression in his eyes but then he turned to Keith. “What do you want to do?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t really have anywhere to go. Where you go, I follow, that’s how it’s always been, anyway.” Shiro shot him a small smile. And while it wasn’t completely right, his eyes didn’t crinkle enough and you couldn’t see his dimple, it was a start. So Keith returned it.

“We will help then.” Shiro’s tone, for the first time on the ship, didn’t show a sliver of doubt, only resolution. “We will discuss our future plans later but right now there are people endangered by those documents.”

He turned towards the princess and as Keith saw the determination in his eyes. It would’ve been foolish to even imagine a world where Shiro wouldn’t immediately help if there were people in danger.

The Princess looked at them, jaw set like raging storm caged in human skin.

“We make sure the Galra don’t get these documents and then we’ll discuss further”

They all nodded.

“All right, let’s not waste any time, shall we?”

 

* * *

Keith should never have agreed to this. The plan was insane, desperate and they were all going to die. He wasn’t even alone with this opinion, the anxious wheezing of Hunk crackled through their comms and even Shiro couldn’t hide the tension in his back as they split up after they had entered Sorans.

Sorans was one the first cities rebuilt after the first long war between Altea and the Galran Empire. Its hexagonal shape and the glass buildings, low set and clearly separated by wide, straight streets, the epitome of innovation, the foundation for a time of Altean prosperity and development.

To see it now, bled dry and stuffed with Galran droids, was heartbreaking.

Coming up with a plan had been like pulling teeth. Lance, Pidge and Hunk had repeatedly fought over whether or not Lance would get to go. There had been yelling and shouting and the some more yelling but in the end Pidge and Hunk gave in. Keith had remained silent during the whole thing though he had felt a weird feeling in his stomach, when they agreed that Lance got to go with them. Keith ignored it, it had felt so close to dread that he didn’t want to think about now.

  
  


Keith’s steps were swallowed by the concrete and he could hear Galran druids in the distance. Sweat ran out of every pore in his body and the torturous heat slowed his movements. A sound behind him made him jump, Keith turned, knife poised, body taut like a drawn bow string but there was nothing. His eyes scanned the area again and again but nothing. He dropped his stance and took a deep breath. He would have to keep it together if they wanted to make it out alive.

His heart rate calmed but his hands were shaking when he placed the first one of half a dozen explosives on a wall. It belonged to a tiny bakery, its inside lined with pastel pink walls and white chairs formed out of painted metal and shaped intricately. 

It was picturesque… or would have been if weren’t for the dried, bloody handprints on the walls and the rotten pastries stuffed with insects and rats alike.

Keith choked back a scream. A rotten corpse in the making.

“First Explosive in Place.” His voice was shaky at best and Keith was half-tempted to repeat his words but Hunk’s weren’t any better. “Copy that, Red.”

The audio cut out and Keith’s eyes fell to the red weapon ─ Coran had called it a bayard ─ strapped to his hip. Allura had forced all of them to take one.  _ I can’t imagine you to fight without giving you weapons,  _ she had said. But Keith trusted this thing about as far as he could spit. Especially when the answer to the question what it did as that it depended on him. It could turn into a bomb for all he knew. Volatile, destructive, yeah, that would definitely fit.

The only thing Keith could hear was his own breathing and his heart hammering so hard in his chest that it felt like even his feet were vibrating with it. But still, the panic remained.

The moment they are discovered by patrol, everything would be lost. “Second explosive in place.” Shiro's hushed voice rang through the comms.

A metallic creaking behind him made Keith slip into the space between to buildings. The tell-tale mechanical buzz of the bots came closer and closer. Keith held his breath.

The steps came and went but Keith couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. 

He felt panic, bitter and ugly, rise in his throat but he couldn’t succumb to it. Not here, not  _ now. _ He forced it back, balled his fist and counted to ten, then to twenty and then to thirty. And yet, the fear persisted. No amount of counting and breathing could force that beast away once it arrived. But it would have to be enough for now.

Keith zeroed in on his next target. A building five blocks away. He could do this. He would go there, place the explosive and move onto the next. His panic would have to wait, he would deal with it later. He got shit to do.

So Keith gritted his teeth and got back to work. He moved like a ghost through the streets, stayed in the shadows, only leaving them to cross the streets. The streets were his enemy, once he left the shadows he was out in the open, wide open and unguarded.

Time passed in a blur and the sun sunk lower and lower on the horizon. They were running out of time. Once nightfall hit patrol would be doubled and the city would be on lock down. They would be like livestock, waiting for the butcher to come. 

He got to the next building just the patrol walked around the corner away from him.

His hands were shaking badly and it took him a few tries to get it right _. Pull yourself together dammit. Now is not the time to panic! _

“Third explosive—„ his voice broke, and he cursed inwardly, „Third explosive in place.“

He heard metallic steps again and bolted back into the gap between the building and another. He shut his eyes tightly and held his breath. 

If they were discovered now everything was for nothing. The game would be lost before they even started. He could let that happen, not when those documents were as important as the Princess claimed. 

Keith still didn’t trust her but he knew true desperation when he saw it, knew when saw someone who had lost everything and was willing to lose more for what they thought was the right thing.

The steps passed and Keith took a second just to re-centre himself. The tremor in his limbs still didn’t vanish and panic still loomed just at the edge of his consciousness, waiting, biding its time like a predator waiting for the right time to strike. But Keith wasn’t prey, had sworn to himself that he would never be weak enough to count as prey again. So he pulled his spine straight and set his jaw.

Failure wasn’t an option.

He began to move again. The next explosive clicked into place underneath his fingers. 

“Last explosive in place.” Now the real part began.

“Ok, now move towards the southern gates but remain inside the city walls.” Hunk sounded like he had swallowed an entire cup of gravel but his voice had finally stopped shaking.

Shiro gave his confirmation and Keith began moving. Hunk would detonate the explosives  the west and east side of the city. They would serve as a distraction for both Allura who was going to retrieve the documents and Pidge who would gather intel at the Galra communications centre near city centre.

“Starting the countdown. Detonation in a minute.” The ticking in the comms was deafening and Keith started to run.  _ Left, left again right, left again and again, _ Directions ran through his mind at a breakneck speed and his legs moved on their own, their survival instinct far stronger than his own propelling them forward. He turned again, narrowly missing the patrolling guard, and turned again. Suddenly, all air was forced out of his lungs. He collided with Shiro who stood as solid as a tree trunk. He cursed and faltered but both of them stayed on their feet.

“You okay?” Concern was written in the furrow of his brow and Keith nodded instinctively. The panic in his mind rose and cackled at his lie, taunting him  _ liar, liar,  _ but Keith crammed it the farthest corner of his mind. He drew his sword that he had strapped to his back and a dagger out of the holster on his forearm.

Shiro also readied himself, his pistol that Pidge had given him, in his left hand. His right had started working again, after Coran had disabled the jamming signal in the castle. Keith couldn’t help but stare at it. Shiro’s right hand  _ was _ the weapon _.  _ It glowed a bright purple and gave out an electric hum. Keith could feel the heat that was radiating off it even though he was standing more than a foot away from him.

They moved until they stood shoulder to shoulder.  Keith’s wanted to laugh bitterly at the thought he could lose Shiro so shortly after getting him back. 

But he wouldn’t. He squared his shoulders and flexed his jaw. He wouldn’t just stand by and lose on of the people that were important to him. Not again.

“Pink and Green in Place?” Shiro's voice echoed in his comm and right beside him and both the Princess and Pidge gave their affirmation.

“Detonating in five ─ “ Hunk began counting down and Keith tightened his grip on his weapons. The explosions were rigged with a interfering signal that would draw the bots away from the explosions instead of to them. At least that’s how Keith understood it when Pidge and Hunk started rambling tech-lingo.

Pidge and the Princess would then use the openings both on the east and the west side of the city to get to the centre and leave the same way they came. Lance would be with them on the roofs and snipe everything that even thought of causing trouble.

He felt Shiro tense beside him. After the bombs went off they would be stormed by the bots. Though fear and panic were making his hands clammy and the knot in his throat was stealing his air, his blood was singing at the anticipation of a good fight.

“Three─” Keith and Shiro put their fingers in their ears

“Two… One─” Hunks voice was cut of by the deafening boom that made the earth shake beneath his feet. Dust swirled through the air and Keith was blind for a second.

An entire second too long.

A mechanical whirring that sounded too close ─  _ way too close _ ─ and then, metal met skin and pain exploded in the right half of his face. Stars danced in front of his eyes and he heard the mechanical sound again but this time his instincts ─  _ finally _ ─  kicked in.

He blindly yanked up his arm and felt it vibrate all the way up to his shoulder when his sword met one of the sentries with a sharp  _ clang _

Then the smoke cleared and what he saw was terrible. Dozens of robotic sentries came at them at a inhumane speed. Shiro’s panting and the stink of melting metal was the only thing that kept grounded in that moment, that reminded him that now  _ wasn’t the fucking time to panic. _

He readjusted the grip on his sword and let muscle memory take over. He struck down sentries one by one. The clang of his sword and dagger, the gunshots and the sizzling of Shiro’s arm paired with their combined panting formed a cacophony of war, frightening and unbearable.

He didn't know how ─ it seemed as if he wasn’t the one guiding his body but the other way around ─ but somehow Shiro and him ended up back to back. Keith fell into a rhythm while they fought and fought. 

Slice duck, kick, slice duck.

His muscles and his lungs burned but he paid them no mind. He would just have to survive until Pidge and the Princess where out of Sorans again. Just until then.

Slice, duck, kick, slice, duck.

Again and again.

The stink of molten metal filled the air and sweat ran down his temples. He managed to block a particularly close call that was aimed at Shiro and cried out in pain when his dagger was knocked out of his hand. Shiro then punched a sentry that was dangerously close to separate Keith's head from his shoulders.

The rhythm continued but then worst case scenario happened. The sentries managed to form a circle around them. Keith cursed. That was the one thing that wasn't allowed to happen. And yet it did.

The circle around them tightened. Keith and Shiro took out as many as they could but there were only two of them. It was only a question of time until it would be over. His arms burned as he ripped another one of his daggers free and then without thinking about reached for the weapon the princess had given him earlier.

Red light exploded and in his hand was a enormous sword. 

Keith didn’t take the time to marvel. He dropped his dagger and plunged the sword into the chest of the sentry that was aiming for Shiro’s head. It was like cutting butter. 

Sparks flew and a rage filled roar tore from the depths of his chest. He shot around and started tearing through the soldiers with new vigour. But even that resulted in almost nothing.

More and more soldiers poured in and the circle grew tighter and tighter. 

That was it, they were going to die.

He dimly registered Pidge’ and the Princess’ voice over the comms but a hit by a sentry knocked all air out of his lungs. He knee slammed on the asphalt and sharp pain exploded in his leg. The sentry looked down on him and lifted its blaster. It was as if time lost all meaning. Keith completely froze. This was it. Shiro had gotten separated from him and there was no one that could save him now.

He braced himself for the impact the impact that never came.

A gunshot rang through Keith’s ears and he froze. The sentry lay in front of him, sparks flying out of the hole in his chest.  Keith blinked, stunned.

“ _ Thought I’d let you die, mullet?” _

Lance.

_ Goddamn Lance. _

Keith couldn’t believe it but he wouldn’t have time to try to anyway. An approaching soldier raised his sword and Keith got to his feet.

Barely.

His right knee almost buckled under his weight and the blade caught him on his shoulder. Keith cried out and he heard Lance curse as well. He held his shoulder as Lance shot down the sentry. Blood oozed out between his fingers and stained the asphalt.

Keith yanked up his sword just in time to block another one of the sentries. But the pain in his shoulder made him gasp, the blood loss making him slow and sluggish.

His blocks and strikes slowed and slowed until it happened.

Shiro barrelled into him full force and they went down. Keith slammed to the ground with Shiro on top of him. He frantically shoved at Shiro. Then he saw it.

A bullet hole.

Keith roared as Shiro's blood stained his hands. His vision was swimming and blurring as he desperately tried to get up and failed. The sentries went down and down. And Keith so desperately wanted to help but he couldn’t. He had Shiro in his arms and couldn’t stop screaming.

_ No, no, no, no─ don’t, do- don’t─ please Shiro… _

Shot rained down from behind him and someone yelled his name. But Keith didn’t answer.

Something heavy hit his head and the world blurred. His vision had already gone black when his head hit the ground.

 

* * *

  
  


Getting Keith and Shiro out of Sorans had been hell. Lance had shot down more sentries than he could count and had screamed enough that his voice still wasn't more than a hoarse whisper. He would never forget the sheer amount of blood that covered him from head to toe after he had strung Keith on the Altean version of a motorcycle and revved the engine, with Hunk and Shiro hot on his heels.

He had carried Keith all the way to the infirmary his lungs and muscles burning in protest. He was still running from the last disaster when the next one reared its ugly head.

_ “What do you mean there’s only one functioning healing pod?” _ , he had yelled, his voice breaking several times. But Coran only repeated his statement. So, a decision had to be made. They assessed their injuries. While Lance was undressing and redressing Shiro for the healing pod, Coran and Hunk made sure Keith didn’t bleed out on the table.

It hadn’t been pretty.

They had put Shiro into a pod as soon as they could. Pidge had wanted to object, looked ready to fight tooth and nail because she didn’t trust that technology.  _ What if it kills him?,  _ she had screamed tears running down her cheeks like rivers. But they couldn’t afford that, not they were always just  _ this close  _ to losing his heartbeat.

It had taken Lance hours and multiple scalding showers to get rid of the feel of blood on his skin. But still, even now, hours after they had come back, he still couldn’t stop walking. His steps were the only sounds in the castle. It was the first time it was completely quiet since they had returned from Sorans. He walked through corridors, upon corridors. Each time he thought he would be exhausted enough to sit down, he felt blood run down his forearms, heard it drip to the floor. So he turned and did another round. 

Pidge and Allura had come out pretty unscathed, their part of the mission had run pretty smoothly. A small miracle in times of crisis.

After all of them had been patched up, came the discussion what they had to do now. They couldn’t leave the castle not with Shiro being in one of those pods but he didn’t really feel comfortable remaining with the Alteans either. Something about the castle unnerved him that was even though exhaustion made every fibre of his being protest and groan under his movements he still couldn’t find rest.

Pidge and Hunk were sleeping on top of each other in the lounge room─ none of them had waned to split up and they hadn’t found a bed big enough for the three of them. They didn’t even so much as shift when Lance got up and left them there before his restlessness could disturb their slumber.

So he started walking. He didn’t know why he came back to the infirmary. Maybe it was because his hero was currently unconscious in a healing pod after having lost almost a third of his blood but the sight of Keith proved him wrong.

Lance sighed as he saw the curled up figure leaning against the dashboard in front of the pods. The red of his jacket almost purple in the harsh blue light of the pods.

Lance walked up to him, his steps soft but Keith turned regardless.

“What are you doing here?” Lance couldn’t help but be surprised at the red rims of his eyes and the splotchy red colouring of his cheeks. He had always imagined that people like Keith, people who seemed to be carved out of flames, didn’t cry.

Lance shrugged. He figured  _ I don’t think you should be alone right now, _ wouldn’t be perceived well so he didn’t say it. Keith examined him, his purple eyes dark and intense, but remained silent when he turned back towards the pod.

Lance walked forward and looked down to him. “Company?”

It looked like Keith would refuse. It seemed like an instinct and Lance already braced himself for the harsh rejection. He shouldn’t be surprised, just because he saved his life didn’t mean that they were frien─

Keith nodded and averted his eyes.

Lance blinked, stunned, then hastily sat down next to him. They remained silent for a while. Lance went back to silently studying Keith, the car ride in which he had started doing so seemed centuries ago despite being only a few hours. 

He took note of all the bruises, the shallow cuts, the bandage below his eye. He then went onto the tense grind of his jaw, the crease between his eyebrows, the steel in his eyes─

“Why are you doing that?” Lance flinched, violently, but Keith still wasn’t looking at him.

“Doing what?” That hoarse, broken thing of a whisper couldn’t possibly have been his voice. 

“Staring at me like a weirdo.” Keith turned to look at him. Even though he had raised an eyebrow there was no malice in his gaze just what was, perhaps, curiosity and confusion.

Lance averted his eyes. Heat crept up his neck and made itself comfortable in his cheek and on his ears.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s bothering you. Aside from the obvious,” he adds hastily when Keith raised his eyebrow higher.

“Why care?” Keith seemed to ask himself more than Lance. He asked himself the same question but he guessed saving someone’s life made them somewhat invested in his well-being.

“Why not?” Lance answered for the both of them.

He lifted his eyes back to Keith’s and was met with intensity. Keith was looking for something his face, if the determined glint in his eyes was anything to go by. He found it apparently because he answered the unspoken question.

“I almost died today, “ He sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, messing them up even further and spreading what seemed like a mixture of sweat and grease, “Hell if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

He huffed, the sound so bitter that Lance could taste it at the back of his tongue.

“I almost lost Shiro today.  _ Again. _ ” His voice was laced with a terrible mixture of sadness and self-hatred. Lance’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

“But the only thing I’m stuck thinking about is that I still haven’t seen it.” He seems so sad and small that Lance wanted to gather all his broken pieces so he could start gluing them together again. But he wouldn’t because there was a line drawn in the sand.  A line he couldn’t cross.

So he asked, “Seen what?”

“Everything, I guess.” He shrugged- The movement, however tiny it was, bore more weight than it should. “Everything I’ve ever seen is in a little town in the middle of nowhere and the Garrison. Quite pathetic, isn’t it?”

A flicker of Keith pops up in his mind, a picture of him on the battlefield, a feral lion carved out of fire and brimstone.

Lance swallows the,  _ You could never be pathetic, _ that laid on the tip of his tongue.

“Then you know what to do, when all of this over, when we all make it out of here.” Lance shot him a smile, tried tell both him and himself that the war would pass, that  _ this  _ couldn’t last forever. That there would be a day where the sun would rise again.

His mother always told that not everything could be conveyed by a glance.  _ That’s what words are for, mijo. _

But the small lift of the corners of his mouth told him that Keith had understood just fine.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyoo! This chapter took me ages to finish. But here it is! (Please don't hate me afterwards)
> 
> ps: I talk about the s7 spoilers in the end notes. so if you don't want to be spoiled better skip those!
> 
> Warnings: PTSD flashbacks (stop reading at: "It merely took a thought" and start again at: "It was over.")

Keith had always divided his life into different obsessions. His childhood memories were filled with him sitting behind trees and bookshelves, quietly watching. He would observe the object of his interest or spent hours upon hours hunched over dusty books or looking through old hard drives. It was something he just started doing without questioning it. He ate, he slept and he stared at things until they made sense to him.

 

Pocket, the cat of his third orphanage, was his first obsession. He thought the name was ridiculous, even after he saw the pocket-shaped black patch on her belly someone had pointed out. It didn’t suit her at all. It was like someone had wrapped up a lion in silk ─ coddled, an insult to its true nature. Pocket had been a ruthless, unprecedented nuisance. She would yell at random times at night, ripping everyone from their slumber, and no piece of furniture had been safe from her claws.

 

Keith had instantly liked her.

 

Next came Mothman. And well, you could say that one kinda stuck. It was silly, he knew so himself, but Keith enjoyed the idea that there was something that was bigger than anything he could imagine. That there could be creatures spun out of belief and fear. Creatures that feasted on the myths told about them. That would come out at night and hunt through the woods of the north and that there would be scared hunters telling tales of the unknown that had lurked in the shadows and stared at them from the dark in the morning.

 

Those thoughts comforted that him. Creatures that lived even though no one understood them, that lived without needing to be understood and that maybe he could be that way too.

 

The next obsession never happened and Keith would fight everyone to death that suggested otherwise. Because his next obsession had been _Shiro._

He remembered that Shiro, the _old_ Shiro, unlike this one. The Shiro never managed to wear matching socks, poured the milk before the cereal and cried when he lost a game of monopoly. The old Shiro was all that and yet, seemed like everything good and pure in the world

 

Keith wanted to resent him, really, really wanted to. But he couldn’t, it was as if Shiro had soaked up all the niceness a human could possess until none had been left for Keith. All Keith could offer were cuts and bruises, throats that had grown hoarse with yelling and migraines formed by anger. It didn’t seem possible that Shiro could be that perfect and still like _him_ of all people and yet, he did.

 

And then obsession grew into insanity. Grew into sleepless nights, took shape as the purple bruise that bloomed around Iverson’s good eye like a poisonous flower and the corresponding ache in the knuckles of Keith’s left hand. It taunted him in form of the itch in the back of his throat, proof that even his voice had abandoned him.

 

It turned red, set him ablaze, pounding with hot rage and had his blood thundering through his veins. A snarl would lace all of his words, would sharpen them until they could bring down entire cities. It created the hardened anger, coiled its leaden shackles around his heart until it grew heavy and cold. It dug itself a way deep into the space between his ribs and festered like a parasite in its final host.

But it hadn’t been an unwanted guest. Keith had welcomed it, had opened the doors of his heart and invited it in. Because what else had there been left to do?

Without Shiro, the only thing he knew was how to rage.

 

Now there was a new obsession, unwelcomed and terribly inconvenient. It was Lance, because how couldn’t it be? Keith had been doomed from the start. Lance’s soft smile back in his shack, his golden quintessence that had warmed him down to his core and the gunshot that had saved his life had marked the beginning of his downfall. Lance had gotten his mind to run in circles, round and round. There had been nothing that could be done to stop it.

 

There had been fights like star collisions, hot and volatile. That had destroyed them and left them burned out and hollow. But then there were times where they worked like a well-oiled machine, where they were the tick to the other’s tock.

 

Keith’s bayard hit the metal of one of the training bots. The sharp clang sent out its vibration all the way up to his shoulder. It was a welcome shock, a burn brighter than the mess in his head. The robot took a swing at him but Keith was faster. The air whooshed through his face as welcome as a summer breeze. A grin spread on his lips, a sharp-tipped cocky glint, as he swirled gracefully and cut his sword into the side of the bot, a fatal wound.

It crumbled and where it fell two new ones appeared.

 

A welcome challenge.

 

His grin widened and he re-adjusted his stance. _Let them come_ , he thought and struck. First, he would always strike first. His knee connected with the head of the first bot and a blue circular patch indicated bruising, maybe even cracked bones. Good, but not enough. He loosened his grip on his bayard. The sword spun around and he slammed its hilt into the bot’s face. The screech of metal on metal was music to his ears and the sizable dent in the bot's face made euphoria rush through his bloodstream, a pounding drum suddenly doubling its speed.

 

His grin spread and spread, until ─

 

He turned just in time to see the staff of one of the robots. His eyes widened and his arms shot up in a futile attempt to shield his head.

 

He was suddenly back in Sorans, had dirt and blood streaking his face and had his muscles tremble with an exhaustion that had already faded weeks ago. He braced himself for the pain that would inevitably follow. But it never came.

An electric blast shot past him and straight into its chest. Keith whipped around and Lance shot him a cocky smile as he stepped into the training area. His bayard had transformed into a rifle and it seemed less like he was holding it and more like it was an actual part of his body.

 

“Mind if I join you?” The bots didn’t leave him the time to answer. In the blink of an eye, they were back to back and the sound of gunshots and metal hitting metal filled the training deck. Their panting breaths merged together as they both started to strike. Keith fought of the closer bots to give Lance the room he needed to properly take aim. While Lance had his back when it came to the bots a bit farther away.

 

They fell into a rhythm. Lance’s fighting left room for Keith to fit himself into seamlessly. It was like Lance was singing half of a duet, with all the gaps and harmonies left for Keith to fill and complete. Each bot taken out was a note sung, awaiting its response. Gunshots, the clang of metal, they bled together. Their song crescendoed as if carried by wings and ended with them aching and desperately trying to fill their lungs with air, while their opponents laid unmoving at their feet.

 

“What are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than he intended, fueled by his confusion. Lance never came down to the training deck. Lance’s breath slowed as he rose to his full height. He schooled his impression into cocky nonchalance, no trace left of the flinch he thought Keith hadn’t noticed.

 

“Shiro has been looking for you, mullet.” A calculating gaze as if he saw something Keith didn’t, the tone of his voice as if he saw _everything_ and Keith didn’t. Irritation rose beneath his skin.

 

He clenched his fists hard and his jaw harder, a movement not unseen. Lance cocked his eyebrow as if amused. He lifted his chin, sarcasm dripping from his voice like venom. “What? Are now too good for him too? That’s harsh, mullet, even for you.” Not even his grin and the arrogant glint in his eyes could mask the sneer in his voice.

 

Keith remained silent, just for a heartbeat. A heartbeat too long.

 

Lance saw right through him and Keith wanted to strangle him. But he wouldn’t even be able to touch him, not when Lance’s gaze turned so disgusted that he was sure it would burn him if he even so much as thought about doing it.

 

Lance scoffed, a harsh sound that rang in Keith’s head and drained the anger, the irritation right out of him. All he was left with was tiredness, not just fatigue that made his muscles tremble and threaten to fail him every moment, but bone-deep exhaustion, not even sleep could fix. He sighed and turned around.

 

“Fine. I’ll come to find him in twenty minutes.” Keith waited for the sound of retreating steps but he waited in vain.

“What?” He snapped, whipping around, only to find Lance staring at him, blue eyes now even more striking that the skin beneath was bruised black by exhaustion and shone with sweat. He felt his eyes like a physical touch, prying and tearing, laying something bare he didn’t want to face. It continued for a moment, then another. Lance continued until Keith couldn’t hide his squirming anymore and then some. It felt like minutes had passed when he turned around and finally started walking.

 

“He’s on the observation deck.” He didn’t even turn. Keith didn’t know whether to be relieved because of that or not. And then he was gone.

 

Keith made his way to the shower stalls as if caught in trance. He could still feel his gaze when hot water droplets started a pitter-patter on his skin and steam wove itself around him, a cloth protecting him from outside views. But it couldn’t protect him from Lance’s voice still haunting him inside his head.

 

_Are you now to good for him too?_

 

Keith scoffed, a harsh and bitter sound. Too good for Shiro? As if he would think such a thing. How could he be too good for someone who emerged from imprisonment beaten and bloodied and scarred and still had enough kindness left inside of him to help someone in need? How could he be better than someone formed out of brightness and warmth when all he was is rage and anger?

 

He looked down to his knuckles, he had long stopped acknowledging their dull ache. They were red and raw, just like the rest of him was, just like the rest of him always would be. He turned his head upwards while his entire body moved downwards. His knees hit the tiles and he fell until his back hit them as well.

 

He stared into the steam until the white curtain couldn’t cast off Lance’s accusing stare anymore and he started imagining his voice, accusation after accusation, one by one. And then they grew into something worse. The water on his skin turned into red drops and he saw Shiro’s body hit the ground. He felt his throat grow hoarse with a silent scream and saw a bullet hole that was meant for him.

 

Keith didn’t go to Shiro that night

 

* * *

 

Lance had started watching people again. It had been bound to happen, really. A new place with people he had never seen before, never talked to before ─ his curiosity had a field day.

It was habit born in his childhood after his parents had told them that they would add acting to their shows. Lance had been ecstatic. He would get to be an actor! He had been barely able to contain his happiness.

 

 _To portray other people, to fully become someone else, is to know what sets them apart from other people._ The warm voice of his father rang in his ears, his accent softening all the hard sounds. So watching people was what he did. He studied their tells and nervous quirks. Pieced them together like a puzzle. _To know what sets them apart from other people,_ the thought stayed on his mind for a while. There wasn’t anything else to do, nothing useful for him, anyway.

 

Pidge was busy decrypting the documents they had retrieved from Sorans and only ever left her room to eat, if at all. He had found her sitting in the kitchen at 3 am stuffing food goo in her mouth while her hand shook so much that she smeared most of it on her cheeks. He had joined her in an attempt to offer silent companionship. He hadn’t asked, he wouldn’t have gotten an answer anyway.

 

Hunk and Coran had started fixing up the castle ─ he still refused to call it anything but that ─ as it had turned out that their little run-in with the glamour had left more damage than initially thought. They had been running around the castle spewing tech lingo at a speed that made Lance dizzy and sleepy at the same time.

 

It was some sort of therapy for Hunk. While he still tensed when Coran appeared behind him and was still wary to believe any niceties brought forward by the Altean, the time in the lab where the only time Lance saw his shoulders fully unclench. His machines and the projects he kept tinkering on were the only things that made him smile.  So Lance would take it, even if he, more often than not, had to drape blankets over him at his desk because exhaustion had been faster than his legs.

 

The Princess had taken over the control room. Every time Lance walked passed she was tracing routes onto maps only to erase them a moment later, muttering what he assumed was Altean under her breath. He had told himself not to worry ─ she had almost roasted him alive, after all ─ but his eyes couldn’t help but linger when he saw that the food Coran had brought her went untouched. Her cheekbones had sharpened over the weeks they spent in the castle while the baggage beneath her eyes had grown heavier and heavier.

 

He had tried helping her, eager to prove himself useful. But the Princess discovered that his Altean was broken at best and she had to spend more time explaining the different maps to him than she actually got to work. So she gently but firmly advised him to maybe try and find a different past-time. Which translated roughly to _You’re being useless. Get out._

 

So back to watching it was.

 

And boy, had he found a target. Keith and Shiro were a whole new kind of complicated. Lance had watched both of them for the longest time but nothing made sense. It was as if both weren’t just each one person but different people crammed together in one body that were desperately trying to get their moment, desperately trying to be in control just for the blink of an eye.

 

There was the Keith that had slept next to Shiro’s cryopod even days after he was put inside of it, the one that had layers upon layers of dried tears on his cheeks. The one that carried exhaustion with him and let it carve its lines deep into his face. He had neither eaten nor had he slept for longer than an hour at a time in the infirmary. It had been like pulling teeth to even convince him to get into the other cryopod, after Coran had fixed it up, long enough for his injuries to fully heal.

 

But then Shiro came out of the cryopod and Keith fucking _vanished_.

 

He helped him out of it and set him onto one of the beds, helped him lean against the wall and wordlessly stared at him until he finished the food goo and the water Coran had prepared for him. But then, he was gone.

 

And he stayed gone.

 

They grew into poles with the same polarity.

Keith took a step forward and Shiro took one step back.

Keith took two steps forward, Shiro took two steps back.

Only that Shiro was the one taking the steps forward, reaching out for Keith and Keith was taking steps back. Only that Keith wasn’t just walking backwards, he turned around and _ran._

 

Shiro would come out of his room for breakfast and sit down to have his (quite frankly disgusting) morning goo. His eyes would catch onto Keith’s and hope, as tiny as a lonely firefly in the dark would rise up. Only to be squashed when Keith averted his eyes and refused to look at him. Keith reached out for something and happen to accidentally touch Shiro? He would recoil like Shiro had hit him and that glimmer of hope in Shiro’s eyes would die completely.

The tension in the room would rise and rise and no one would speak a word. Shiro’s first step marked the beginning of a waiting game, of a treading on eggshells. Lance would hold his breath and count the minutes it took for Keith to give in. Because he would always cave first and leave the room. His steps firm, echoing with badly concealed urgency.

 

Shiro went to the training deck, Keith would be just walking out of the room, bathed in sweat, cheeks filled with splotches of red, heading straight for the shower. Lance’s eyes lingered a while on his retreating figure but he shook his head and turned around before the heat that had begun forming at the base of his spine could crawl up further north or south.

 

He had let it run its course over a few days, has watched their fatigue spread further like a disease until he decided he would do something. He couldn’t just watch his ─ what were they anyway? His idol and his rival? ─ Teammates hurt like that.

 

So one night after making sure he could still hear the sharp clang of Keith’s sword and his laboured breaths from the training deck, he went and sought out Shiro on the observation deck.

 

Nothing in the world ─ hell, even the entire universe─ could have prepared him for what he saw. Shiro. Sobbing.

 

Lance froze in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. The mental picture he had painted of Shiro, as a hero in shining armour that didn’t know things such as hurt and tears cracked and splintered like glass, as Shiro desperately tried to wipe his tears away.

“Lance,” The smile he forced on his lips, slipped right off again like an ill-fitting pair of pants and did nothing to hide the raw hurt buried in his features, “How can I help you?”

 

Lance didn’t want to know whether he wanted to laugh or wanted to cry at the irony that Shiro, hurt and sobbing Shiro, still felt like he had to help _him._

So he did neither of that, instead, he closed the door behind him, cutting off their only light source, and sank down on the floor next to Shiro. His shoulders were still shaking with sobs that were already fading and Lance’s heart burned at the sight of it.  It painted the picture he of a broken soldier, desperately trying to pick up the rest of his pieces. It felt wrong, so _incredibly_ wrong.

 

Life shouldn’t paint someone that bright ─ that _vibrant_ ─ in shades of tears and misery.

 

He let the silence grow between them. Shiro’s deep inhales as he was still trying to keep the tears from falling. Lance, in search of something to say, looked up through the glass ceiling as if they carried his answer.

And surprisingly, they did.

 

“Ever heard of the _Fraternitus_ star duo?” Lance didn’t take his eyes off the stars, afraid that Shiro might look at him in disgust or even anger. He could still feel his eyes on his face but when he spoke there was neither anger nor disgust in his voice.

 

“Yes, why?”, Shiro asked, confused, his voice still rough from all the tears.

 

“They remind me of Keith and you,” he answered, still without looking. Still confusion on Shiro's side so Lance kept speaking, “The term comes from the word _Fraternité_ and means brotherhood.”

Understanding began to spread but Shiro still remained silent, so Lance kept talking, it’s not like he knew how to do anything else. Always saying 15 words where one would have been enough.

 

“They don’t really orbit each other, at least not exactly. They drift apart until their gravity can’t hold each other near anymore. So they drift further and further.” He turned to look at Shiro’s face, tracing the wide scar on the low bridge of his nose, while Shiro had his eyes turned towards the sky as if he could see the two stars right in front of him.

 

“And then?” he asked, hesitantly. The sound felt wrong to Lance’s ear, an unfitting note in a song he’s heard before.

 

“And then they turn around. Just like that. Poof.” Lance huffed out a tiny laugh and even though there were still the traces of his tears glittering on his cheeks, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted in response. “They always come back to each other. Science doesn’t know how or why but they do. No matter how far they drift apart they still find each other to start orbiting again.”

 

Lance fell silent and lifted his eyes up to the desert sky he had grown familiar with over uncountable sleepless nights. He didn’t say anything for a very long time, longer than anyone who knew him would believe. The stars above them, twinkling and infinite, filled the silence between them.

 

When Shiro got up, he put his hand on his shoulder and shot him a smile that glinted like a tiny ray of sunshine after the rain had passed but the clouds still lingered.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith awoke to thunder in front of his door. His first thought, as silly as it was, was a storm, then he opened the door and saw Lance. Not a storm, but the fury in his eyes and the pulsing vein along his neck sure as hell counted as one.

 

“What do you want?” The same gruff tone as always but Lance didn’t flinch, not today.

 

“For you to stop being a dumbass.” He crowded into Keith’s room and let the door slide shut behind him. The neck vein and his crossed arms spoke the language of rage, one that Keith was fluent in, has been since he was old enough to speak. But his voice that startled him, threw him off balance. It was sharp like always when he was angry and Keith felt its knife-like edges gliding across his ears but there was no tremble in them. This was old anger, the kind that had been given the time to ripen

 

But still, Keith spoke the language of anger, all of its dialects and knew all kinds of slang, so he answered in kind. “What is your goddamn problem?”

 

Lance scoffed and his condescending look made Keith’s skin crawl. Arguing with Lance was an imbalanced scale, the short stick Keith would draw, even if he saw both ends while doing so. “Funny, that your asking. I wanted to ask you the same question. Why did you lie to me?”

 

Keith lifted an eyebrow. “About what?” Keith didn’t deny lying; he was sure he had lied about at least something since he had come here.

 

“Shiro. Going to him after you said you would.” Keith froze for a second and then exploded in flames.

 

“Why do you care?!” The word tore from his mouth and he took several steps towards Lance. “What’s it to you if I don’t talk to him?” His knuckles tingled with rage and beckoned him to release it. But he crossed his arms instead. Lance, however, still didn’t show any of the types of fear or intimidation that Keith wanted, the monster curled inside the depths of his stomach wanted Lance to fear him.

 

But Lance’s voice didn’t even waver when he spoke. “It matters to me if I’m the one who finds him crying, alone in the goddamn dark.”

 

The words spread like poison inside Keith’s body and just like that Keith’s rage lost hold of his body, yielded so that shock and guilt could trap him in their claws. He stumbled back, his boots heavy on the ground

“He _cried?_ ” His insides curled in disgust and self-loathing when he heard his pathetic croak. He had made Shiro cry? _Shiro?_

 

 

“Oh no, you don’t get to do that!” Lance snapped. The arrogance and cold he always carried in his eyes when he talked to Keith vanished and its place took pure rage, the kind that had just abandoned Keith. His voice bellowed through the room, ricocheting through his very bones. Keith thought he would shatter with the force of it. “You don’t get to be concerned now and act like you care. Because you don’t!” Lance crowded into his space, blue eyes tinted black with anger, pinned him down like iron shackles.

 

“No you don’t,” his voice dropped, but his anger didn’t soften, it condensed and hardened into something that was worse than before ─ God, so much worse. Keith’s insides shrivelled up as he continued. “Because if you cared you would have seen it. Because if you cared you’d never have abandoned him like that!”

 

A slap in the face. Keith flinched, a violent movement impacting his entire body and lowered his eyes. A revolting aftertaste spread in his mouth because Lance was right. He should never have done that. He, of all people, never should have abandoned him.

 

“But do you know, what’s the worst about all of that?” Keith didn’t want to hear it. All he wanted was to curl up and cover his ears. For Lance to stop and to go away. It was one thing to hear it inside his head. But Lance’s voice turned it into something so much worse.

 

“He isn’t even angry.”

 

And just like that, all anger drained out of his voice like blood out of a wound, just like the one Keith could currently feel in his heart. “He isn’t even angry. No, he says that you’ll come around. That you just need time,” Lance scoffed and Keith felt it in every fibre of his being as guilt wrapped its slimy hands around his throat and stole his air.

 

“Well,” Lance leaned down until Keith could do nothing but looking him in the eye, a brilliant blue filled with almost white specks, all of which were glaring at him in disgust, “Time’s up for you Keith.”

 

And with that, he turned around and left. The swoosh of the closing door was drowned out by his knees hitting the floor and the muffled sob wrenching its way out of his chest.

 

* * *

 

Lance didn’t even have the time to properly be angry before the ping of an announcement was heard and Coran’s voice echoed through the halls.

 

“ _To everyone, please meet the Princess and me in the control room as soon as possible. It is of great importance. I repeat: Please meet me and the Princess in the control room as soon as possible.”_

 

So no rage shower for him today, what a shame. Lance sighed and turned around. Anger was still thrumming beneath his skin and it took him every breathing technique he had learned in the seventeen years of his life to not just scream as loud as he could and release his anger that way. But if his steps were a bit heavier than usual and their sound carried a bit further than it usually should, then who could blame him?

 

“You’re late.” The Princess shot him an exasperated look, a frown etched deep into her forehead. But Lance didn’t even bat an eye, How could he? It was the only look he had been granted by her in the last few weeks of Shiro's recovery.

 

“You know what they say, Princess, save the best for last.” He put on a cocky smirk and settled next to Hunk who was too focused on his clenching and unclenching fists to even spare him a glance. Coran sat at the other side of Hunk, fiddling with some piece of machinery and more absent than actually there but that, like many other things, was something Lance had gotten used to over the last few weeks.

 

The Princess just shook her head at his answer, white stands falling onto her face. Right behind her stood Pidge with something, what he assumed, was a tablet in her hands. He frowned when he saw her face, white as a sheet, void of the remains of baby fat that had been sitting on her cheekbones before they arrived, and filled with exhaustion.

 

Keith scoffed at his answer and his head whipped around at the sound. The glare on his face was instantaneous and Lance curled his hands into fists. Keith met his gaze with nothing less than fire. But Lance didn’t cave, he let his gaze wander and enjoyed watching him squirm almost unnoticeably, he saw the red rims around his eyes and guilt was threatening to rise in his chest but he squashed it. He didn’t have to feel guilty, so he wouldn’t.

 

He forced himself to find it amusing and it kind of was, really. Keith’s eyes would start looking for the corners of the room, for exits, like those of a cornered animal and his entire body would tense. Lance let his eyes slide over his body took in the muscles that have been forged by hours on the training deck. He took in the bruises marring his forearms and biceps, now visible that he wasn’t wearing his obnoxious and tacky jacket, and the subtle but continuous twitch of his left leg. Good to know, a corner of his mouth lifted slightly at the obvious tell.

 

Shiro cleared his throat, interrupting his little mind games with Keith. “Pidge has decrypted part of the files we got out of Sorans.” He turned his gaze towards her and she nodded. She adjusted the grip on her tablet and tapped a few times until five faces appeared.

 

One male and four female. “Who is that?” Hunk asked, still wringing his hands. Lance placed his hand over his and shot him a tiny smile that only widened when he received one in return as the tension bled out of Hunk’s shoulders.

 

Pidge started pacing, her steps long and slow and pointed at each of the pictures one by one. “Emperor Lotor. Male, 26, has been crowned a few months ago.” Allura tensed at the time specification, understandably so, everyone knew what that date really meant. Pidge continued, not even sparing her glance, “General Acxa, female, his second-in-command and top strategist, age unknown. General Ezor, female, 23, graduated top of her class in various martial arts academies and is usually favoured for her speed and agility in close combat.”

 

His eyes lingered a bit on her face, brightly coloured Galra markings in red, violet and yellow and then on her grin. She looked like a cat that hadn’t just gotten the milk but the mouse and the bird too. A shudder went down his back.

 

“General Zethrid, female, 28, insanely strong, has beaten everyone from every gender in her age bracket and the one above, has been in charge of training new recruits for the non-robotic army. And lastly, General Narti. Genderfluid. Age unknown. Eyes and ears of the Galran court. They can get everywhere unseen and is usually underestimated.”

 

For a moment there was silence. They had known beforehand that whatever they were up against was going to be challenging but Lotor’s generals were seemingly invincible. He tightened his grip over Hunk’s hands when he started to wring them again and now looked to Shiro. Deep lines of worry were etched into his face and his mechanic arm twitched as if it had a mind of its own.

 

“But that’s not even the worst of it isn’t it?” Coran asked, thoughtful gaze directed at Pidge. She sighed, the sound coming from the depths of her entire being. “No, that’s not the worst of it.”

She flicked her hand and the pictures disappeared and gave way to a new one. A hooded woman with sharp, red lines marking each of her cheek like scars. Her scleras a frightening yellow in sharp contrast to the dark dots around her pupils, devoid of any sign of life. She looked like a corpse that refused to die.

 

“This is Haggar. She is the most powerful witch alive and…” She paused for a second and looked at Shiro, who had completely frozen. His eyes widened and unseeing he clenched his fists so hard Lance heard the metal groan under the strain. The tension in the room rose as Pidge remained quiet. She opened and closed her mouth numerous times before Shiro snapped out of his stupor and gave her a nod.

 

Her voice was nothing but a mere whisper but the words carried regardless. “She is the one that gave Shiro his arm and conducted all of the experiments on him. As to date, Shiro is the only one that faced her and made it out alive. No one knows where she is and where she goes when she’s not at court. Many Galrans believe she’s only a myth, someone who can be everywhere at once,” Pidge clasped her shaking hands behind her back, “She wields quintessence and is known for experimenting with it, maybe even enhancing it. No one knows how far her discoveries reach.”

 

Well, that complicated things immensely.

 

The whole universe had turned against them. They were a bunch of _children_ , scared and broken. How could they fight in a war bigger than themselves? How could they fight are war and till return to their families? Lance bit his tongue to keep himself from blurting out his thoughts and looked down where his hand laid over Hunk’s.

 

 _Skin painted by the south._ They would be the first ones without a home to return to.

 

“So what’s our next move?” The Princess looked at Coran but he didn’t get to answer.

 

“What do you mean _our?_ ” Hunk injected, voice rising. “As far as I’m concerned the only things _we_ have gotten out of working with you are a deep-roasted Lance and a Shiro-popsicle. Why should we collaborate with you?”

 

“So, you just want to abandon those in need. The innocents ─ the men, the women, _the children_ ─ that are going to die!” The Princess stared at him, eyes widened in shock but Hunk didn’t even flinch. He stared and listened and it dawned on Lance what this was all about.

 

“That’s rich coming from you, Princess.” His voice had gone completely quiet but it carried anger, enough to fill the room and make it burst. He met the Princess’ eyes in a challenge, a silent but bold declaration. _You cannot frighten me._

 

“What?” True bewilderment and confusion, but Hunk was having none of it. Lance’s eyes met Pidge’s but she seemed like she had no idea what he was talking about, and neither did Shiro nor Keith nor Coran.

 

“You heard me,” his voice was calm but you could hear the barely concealed rage underneath, wrapped up in heart-wrenching betrayal.

 

“Do you remember?” A small question filled with pain and raw hurt. Hunk waited for a moment, expectant, but he waited in vain. The pain in his eyes grew into devastation, spread over his hands and shoulders until even his voice was shaking with it.

“Two years ago, the mass slaughter in the southern isles near the border. 127 people died, 422 injured,” She stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights, it was painfully clear that she was hearing this for the first time. “And the Crown did absolutely _nothing.”_

 

It had been of the biggest tragedies in recorded history. The Garrison had lost communication with the southern islands for almost a week. Hunk had been shattered. It had been like someone had doused water onto a hearth, had violently extinguished the warming fire and all that was left had been mourning ash.

“My people, myself included haven written countless letters to the capital, pleading, _begging_ , the crown for help and do you know what you did? You ignored us, brushed us aside for the upcoming crowning ceremony of the heiress.” Years-old pain, laced his words like poison and Lance’s heart clenched.

 

“Galran robotic forces destroyed the islands, burned our homes, beat us, humiliated us and killed us. We turned to the ones we knew would always help us, we knew would stand with us ─ ” The tears were flowing freely now, torn out of him as if it happened yesterday.

“ _The people first_ , that’s your credo, right? You swore to honour us, to love us like one of your own, to protect us from all harm that comes our way and yet, you didn’t.”

 

His voice grew quiet at the end, turned into something tired and broken. “Among those 127 _innocent people_ were five of my relatives and 15 friends of my family. They were abandoned when they needed you most. So with all due respect your Highness, you don’t get to blame us for not fighting for you.”

 

The Princess was unmoving, swapped with a painted stone carving, and didn’t even attempt to answer. Neither did Coran.

 

Hunk sank back and he leaned against him, offering him silent comfort when he heard the shaky exhale and felt the tremble against his arms.

The moment didn’t last long. At all.

 

Allura opened her mouth to speak but Lance met her eyes and shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for defence and to his surprise, she listened.

 

“Nonetheless, this is not a choice you get to make alone,” Shiro peeled himself off the wall, still paler than usual, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His face has turned from sombre to serious and just like that everyone listened. Lance filed that movement away for later. So that he could imitate it until he could copy it flawlessly

 

Shiro turned to Pidge. “I don’t want to stay,” she spoke decisively as she straightened her back and regained her entire composure. “I left the Garrison to find my father and Matt, not to take part in a war.”

 

Lance frowned. He got her point but they _had_ to stay. “But the princess is right. There are innocents out there that are going to die. We can’t just stand by and watch that happen!”

Lance’s eyes widened at the outburst. Keith had kept quiet the entire time. But just like everything he did the words tore out of him like they were inevitable, like the would scorch his tongue if he remained silent.

 

“People die all the time, we’re at war, for goodness’ sake. It’s not our responsibility to look after them.” Pidge said and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t disagree.

 

“So Pidge, do you want to leave?” She nodded, the movement firm and free from any doubt or hesitation.

 

“Keith?” Same determination, different answer.

 

Shiro hesitated for a moment, deep in thought then, “I’d stay as well. Neither of us can survive if we split up now.”

 

“We were fine before,” Hunk injected.

 

“That was _before_ our only vehicle had been completely abolished and trashed beyond repair by a jammer,” Keith answered, sharp-voiced and hard-faced.

 

“Lance?” Lance distinctly registered that he had been addressed but his thoughts were somewhere else. The war maps from the Garrison popped up in his mind.

How there had been this big stripe of Galra-occupied land that separated him from home. How he would have trek through all of that alone, still as a wanted deserter by the Garrison. He would die within days even if he even managed to get out of the desert before the cold or dehydration took hold of him.

 

He would never make it home alone.

 

He heard his mother’s laughter, felt Rosianna’s hand card through his hair and his father’s rough hand at the base of his spine. He wouldn’t make it, he wouldn’t reach them on his own.

 

“I’m staying.” It was his best bet after all.

 

After that they all scattered. Anger and grief poisoned the air and none of them could stand it any longer. Hunk was the first to rise, his steps heavy on the metal floor. He watched everyone but the Princess leave the control room. His eyes caught onto her silhouette, painted blue by the glow of the holograms dancing beneath her fingertips. He debated talking to her but it wasn’t like his first attempt at helping her had worked out in anyone’s favour. So he didn’t.

 

Instead, he started walking laps around the castle. One, then two, then three. He had already lost count when he heard Hunk’s steps behind him.

 

Lance lifted his head but the dried tear stains on his cheek and his deranged bangs falling into his eyes told him that words weren’t needed. So they made another lap, and another, and another until stars began to twinkle through the overhead windows and darkness settled around them.

 

* * *

 

It was three in the morning when Lance heard a knock at his door. He moaned, desperately try to hold on to sleep. But in vain. He groaned again, louder this time. But the asshat at the other side of the door was having absolutely none of it. The knocking persisted.

 

Lance forced himself up and towards the door. He slammed his hand on the button.

“ _What?!_ ” He glared at the unwelcome intruder. _Keith_ , because who else could it be? No one in their right mind would even consider waking someone that early. This better was urgent.  

 

Keith didn’t even falter at the tone of his voice. He just entered ─ _unwelcomed_ ─ and had the audacity to sit down on his bed like it belonged to him. “Of course come in, would ‘ya.”, Lance muttered, voice full of sarcasm, as the doors swished closed behind him.

Even that was ignored.

 

“What do you want, mullet?” He wouldn’t bother with being polite even with the whack of a rolled up newspaper and his mother’s scolding voice ringing in his ears. It was the usual response to impoliteness, one that belonged to a different Lance, the one that still had a home. He batted the thought away, there was no use in dwelling on them now.

 

Keith, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of his face for the entire time, startled at his question as if someone had ripped him out of a trance. “Why are you staying?” He looked up at him with narrowed eyes and Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest like it’d be enough to ward off Keith’s prying eyes. It wasn’t. His gaze went deeper and deeper until he imagined feeling it on his bones on their persisting search for the truth.

 

“What’s it to you, mullet? Think the space isn’t big enough for the two of us? That there can only be one of us?”

Lance sounded like every stereotypical arch nemesis that ever existed but the point still went so far over Keith’s head Lance imagined it bursting through the ceiling up into the night sky. Regardless of the ridiculousness of his words, he gladly took the false bravado they gave him and shaped them into an armour unwanted questions couldn’t break.

 

“Answer the question,” Keith carried authority like it was made for him like it had just waited for him to come around. It was incredibly unfair.

 

Lance’s first instinct was to object, to tell him exactly where he could stick his dumb question but the sooner Keith was happy the sooner he could continue sleeping.

“There are innocents that could die and if we have the possibility to protect them, we should.” A script practised until even _he_ believed it.

 

“Liar.” There was no shred of doubt in Keith’s voice.

“Excuse me?!”

“You understood me just fine, Liar.“

Lance clenched his fists ─ _the nerve_ ─ and suppressed the scream already building and rising in his throat.

“It’s almost exactly the thing I said, you never repeat anyone‘s words.“ Lance wanted to object but his gaping mouth betrayed him. He couldn‘t deny that he always had to twist people’s words into something else. Lance sighed, exhaustion pounding behind his eyes.

 

“Can‘t you just take a no for an answer or an _I don‘t want to talk about it but trust me it‘s a valid reason?“_  He closed his eyes and the palms of his hands over his face. A gesture unthinkable before. But skin care and face masks were long since part of the past

 

Keith crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes further. “How am I supposed to trust you if you won’t tell me the truth?“

 

Lance closed his eyes for a moment and started for the first breathing exercise. Four seconds in hold for seven and exhale for eight. Now, that he was at least semi-sure he wouldn‘t jump up and pull that long stick right out of Keith’s ass and beat him to death with it, he caved.

 

“Okay, fine. I lied,“ he snapped, “I would love nothing more than to leave, to never touch a gun again and be far away from the so-called princess that electrocuted me so hard I couldn‘t move for an hour! But I can‘t!“

 

Keith flinched at his violent outburst and even seemed something like sorry or guilty for at least a second. But it was gone fast enough that Lance could ignore it so that he had something to be angry at.

 

He turned on his heel and stomped over to the tiny desk at the wall next to his bed. He looked for it for a second, it had to be somewhere around here. He didn’t possess enough that he could actually permanently lose anything. Bingo! There it was. If Keith wanted a dramatic sob story then he would get one. He’d even throw in some visuals for shits and giggles.

 

He returned to his former position in front of the bed, lowered himself to the floor and placed his map index on the ground. A silent _click_ later, a blue hologram of the world appeared.

Keith's eyes widened and under normal circumstances, Lance would have smirked because of his obvious and badly concealed awe but not now, not here.

 

He made smooth motions with his hands and the world began to spin and then began to zoom in on the south-western coastline of Altea. Lance didn’t even have to think about his movements, his hands did them on his own, in a routine built over sleepless nights and the ghosts of family members floating around his head and beckoning him home. ( _Soon,_ he would whisper, a futile lie, and force himself into a sleep that passed in the blink of an eye.)

 

A map of Cuba appeared. An island not far off the coast in the Strip. He snapped his fingers and red lines appeared, thin at first than broader until they covered the entire coastline but spared the tiny island. Lance could feel Keith’s confusion and briefly wondered if Keith had unknowingly adopted his facial expression from Shiro.

 

“That’s home. Where I want to go but can’t.” He didn’t say anything further, couldn’t, really, as grief and pain banded together as a fist and coiled around his throat. But he didn't need to. Somewhere along the way, Keith seemed to have found his lost brain cells and pieced together the rest of the story.

 

“We’re your best shot at getting home, aren’t we? That’s why you can’t leave.” Lance just nodded and stared at his hands. Spoken out loud it sounded incredibly selfish. People were dying and here he was, not caring about anyone but himself.

 

He felt like the worst person on earth.

 

“Of course,” was all that Keith said. Lance’s head shot up but Keith’s eyes were still fixed onto the map. Keith didn’t say anything else. Lance couldn’t help but stare at him as the picture of him he had carefully pieced together shifted and morphed into another, unknown shape. One he had yet to decipher

 

Lance desperately tried to figure out what was going on his head but nothing made sense to him. Some naive and utterly hopeful part of him wanted to believe that he saw understanding in Keith’s eyes. But he forced it back, locked it up before it could bury him under a house of cards inscribed with emotions that refused to die.

 

“How do you know that they’re still alive?” Keith asked bluntly and Lance flinched. Well, done Keith. Way to ask the exact question his mind’s been avoiding for weeks now. Good job, buddy.

 

“I don’t” Lance was too tired to start a time-consuming back and forth now. The sooner he answered the sooner he could sleep. his body screamed for rest that it wouldn’t be granted.

 

“But you still are going to look for them regardless?” Keith sounded almost … hopeful. Like there was one particular answer he wanted to hear. Like this was a test and he desperately wanted Lance to pass. But Lance hadn’t studied.

 

“Of course,” he answered.

 

He tried reading his body language like he’d do with anyone else. The way his shoulders were drawn back and how unlike than Lance he didn’t wear his pajamas. How his feet were planted to the ground. The only thing Lance could read out of his face ─ out of the strong arch of his eyebrows, out of the creases that formed between them and out of his eyes that morphed the blue light of the hologram into something otherworldly ─ was confusion.

Like he was trying to make sense of something and failing

 

Keith started to squirm again like he had done earlier, he really didn’t like to be stared at apparently. Lance would’ve had mercy, weren’t it for the fact that exhaustion had started to slur his words together and had taken any mercy that he’d have left to give.

 

“I’ll always return for my family.”

 

Keith’s gaze turned unseeing for a very long moment at his words and then as if he pulled himself out of waters that were threatening to drown him, he was up and already at the door before Lance could blink. Keith paused his hand at the button, back ramrod straight and shoulders shaking under tension.

 

“Sorry for disturbing you.” The words came out like they weren’t supposed to and with that Keith vanished into the hallway.

 

No matter how hard he tried, Lance didn’t sleep after that encounter.

 

* * *

 

He was barely keeping it together. His composure was threatening to fall and his hands just wouldn’t stop shaking. Hunk forced himself to take a deep breath as he turned down the hallway that led to Coran’s lab.

 

The dim glow from the castle lights filled the corridor. Hunk should be sleeping. His muscles were tense and aching, exhaustion weighing them down and yet, he was thrumming with pain playing dress-up as anger. Sleep had evaded him for hours, so there was no need for chasing it now.

 

He arrived at the lab and looked at his current project. A pair of old communicators he had found in one of Coran’s drawers. The royal adviser had forgotten that they even existed so Hunk figured he didn’t need them anyway. He stepped closer to his workstation, a small table in the back corner of the room, a tiny fleck of order amidst the chaos.

 

He took out his tools one by one and placed them on the table. _Tweezers, scissors, scalpel…_ He laid them out in perfect order and as his routine took shape around him and his focus narrowed in on his tools, his emotions and their constant buzzing bled away. His mind focused on something else and the pain was held at bay. It wasn’t a permanent fix ─ by no means, pain demanded space to fully unfold ─ but it had to be enough for now.

 

Pain could demand to be felt all it wanted, if there was a way to hold it back and to buy himself some time, Hunk would use it. He began working, his movements precise and careful, focused and practised. The world at his periphery unravelled until there was only him and what was beneath his fingers.

 

But thoughts began to leak through his defences, one by one. He saw the pictures he had managed to steal out of the Garrison archives. Pictures that were intended to be burned before they saw the light of day again. His people, beaten and bloodied, crammed together in refugee camps. Locked away and forgotten, starving and suffering and being blamed for it too.

 

It took him everything he had to keep his hands from trembling.

 

He felt pain knocking at his heart like it was a door. Hunk didn’t open it. Instead, he turned off the lights and pretended he wasn’t home. But the thoughts in his mind began to swell again, voices going from a whisper to a scream. The trembling intensified.

 

Pain knocked again. Hunk still didn’t open.

 

So the pain in front of his heart kept rising, like a tsunami readying itself to tear everything down. He set down the communicator he was working on and balled his hands into fists. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts anymore, they all blended together until beginnings and endings were mere history.

 

Pain knocked again and this time when Hunk didn’t answer, it tore the door off its hinges.

 

It invaded his heart, filled it to the last crevice and kept on pushing. Hunk closed his eyes, desperately trying to hold back the tears burning at the back of his eyelids. But his heart was shaking, vibrating with the force of it until Hunk believed even his ribcage would yield. Pain engulfed him until a clear voice forced him back into reality.

 

“Hunk, are you feeling alright?” Hunk whipped his head around and desperately tried to gain back his composure. But his voice was still shaky when he answered.

 

“Yes, of course. What do you want, Princess?” He tried to meet her eyes and frowned when she evaded his.

 

He took it as an opportunity to study her further. She was wearing a nightgown and a dressing robe but her dishevelled hair showed that she had been doing more tossing and turning than actual sleeping.

 

“I came to apologise.” The words were slow and reluctant like they physically pained her. “I read up on what you told me about and you were right. We abandoned you and your people in your biggest time of need.”

 

The pain inside his chest rose again but Hunk wasn’t strong enough to face it yet. So he didn’t.

 

“Tell me about the crowning ceremony.” He needed to know. Countless nights he had lain awake at Garrison. Wondering about the crowning ceremony, obsessing over it. Wondering whether or not it was painful. If it was important enough that the slaughtering of his people didn’t matter. He thought about what possibly could have made it that important. Those questions had plagued him, day and night. They stole his sleep, and the colour out of his world until everything was the same shade of grey until everything was the same kind of meaningless.

 

The Princess remained silent, startled by the abrupt change of topic but Hunk waited until he got an answer. “The crowning ceremony is where members of the royal family, no matter whether they are actually part of the line of succession or not, get their markings.” She absentmindedly traced the mark on her right cheek. The look in her eyes spoke of pain and longing but Hunk wouldn’t take that into consideration, not now.

 

He didn’t say anything so she kept going. “They develop over the course of a week. The process is rather painful but it is necessary. The markings are the manifestation of our quintessence and give us our powers.” She sat down on one of the stools and her perfect posture vanished.

 

“The Galra always laughed at us for our grand celebrations,” she huffed out a laugh, coloured by sadness, “their markings appear overnight and they just continue on with their lives like nothing happened. I always thought it was something that connected us, made us similar in way…” She trailed off, mind a thousand miles away.

 

Hunk was tempted to just leave her like that, living in the past she could have anymore. But he waited too long for this moment, had spent too many nights obsessing over what he would say and what he wouldn’t. Had prepared grand speeches, had yelled at her in his mind, cursed both her and her family. The words had been living ─ growing ─ in his mind for an eternity.

 

But when he opened his mouth, they failed him. What came out instead was a disappointment.

 

“I haven’t talked to my family in ages,” She lifted her head and looked at him, but he seamlessly continued, “Haven’t talked to them. Don’t know where they are. Don’t even know whether they are still alive or not.” It burned to say those words, to speak them into existence and to stop running from the truth.

 

“I’m sorry,” the Princess said, her voice thick and shaky, “I know that doesn’t fix anything and doesn’t even come close to what my family did to you, did to your people. But I still beg your forgiveness.” She rubbed her palms on the side of her robe and held his eye contact. “I’ve been a Princess of the capital and not the people and I failed you.”

 

The look in her eyes was open and vulnerable and spoke of true remorse. Hunk wanted to forgive her, be naïve and believe that it would all be okay now. But he wouldn’t lie to himself, wouldn’t be foolish enough to believe in words whose actions he hadn’t seen yet, whose worth hadn’t been proven yet.

 

“I can’t forgive you. Not for myself, not in the name of my people,” She nodded, “But I won’t stand by and watch innocents get slaughtered even though I could’ve helped.”

 

Tentative hope bloomed in her face. “Does that mean─ ?” She didn’t finish her sentence, didn’t quite dare to hope yet. But Hunk wouldn’t be the murderer of hope tonight. So he nodded.

 

He wouldn’t let innocents suffer, not when he could help.

 

* * *

 

 

They hadn’t made any progress, not even a little bit. His eyes darted around the room where they stood divided like two countries at war. Lance drummed his fingers against the metal wall at his back, their vibrations swallowed by tight-lipped, sharp voices.

 

“That will never work.” Hunk said, at least for the fifth time now and Lance felt the urge to slam his head back against the wall.

“It’s our only option,” Coran answered and the urge intensified.

 

Ever since their discussion started they had been moving in circles. _The Blade of Marmora,_ that was what Pidge had called them. They were the owners of those files, those who had apparently infiltrated the Galran Empire deep enough to have access to this information.

From what they had gathered, they operated from somewhere around the coast of the Strip, but that wasn’t all there was to it.

 

“They operate on a nationwide basis and run an underground network that provides aid to occupied cities and refugees.” Pidge had pushed her glasses up onto her head trapping any stray hairs underneath and exposing her forehead. Even though her expressions was hardened by sleepless nights her face was still soft. Her cheeks were still rounded by what baby fat she had left and her eyes were still as wide and as curious as on the day he met her. A light war hadn’t quite managed to dim.

 

“But a system like that always needs a base external from their actual quarters to run smoothly, a place where anyone could walk in and out and don’t suspect a thing…”

 

Lance had almost forgotten that Keith was there. Well… had almost succeeded at lying to himself too. It was impossible not to notice when Keith was in a room. His gaze, his presence… everything had a weight to it. He filled a room to them and made it strain under his presence.

 

Pidge turned her head and they exchanged a smirk, more like a mutual lift of the corners of their mouths if anything. Lance raised an eyebrow. What was that about?

But he didn’t have time to dwell on his observation, Pidge tapped on her tablet and a three-dimensional model of a mountain appeared.

A few gestures later the hologram, split as if some had cut through the middle of the mountain and revealed the inside of it. Which was… _hollow_?

 

“This is the swap cave, your typical black market establishment. Mobsters, assassins, hackers, everyone who isn’t exactly on the side of the law will find themselves in there at least once in their lives─”

 

“And what do we need in a place like that?” The Princess interrupted, her voice tinged with distaste. Pidge shot her a glare but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the interruption.

 

“ _We_ need to find someone.” The portrait of someone appeared. Sharp jawline, but soft facial features. If it weren’t for the deep scar Lance would have thought they were a mere child dressing up as their parents to play war. It even darker than the rest of their soil-dark skin, that cut from the left corner of their mouth, through their eye to then vanish in the depths of tightly woven dark kinks and curls.

 

“That is Axe, a retired smuggler, now navigator for the Altea-based part of the Blade of Marmora _and_ our target.”

 

What’s the plan?,” Lance turned to both Shiro and Allura and lifted his eyebrows.

 

“The mountain is one of the most heavily guarded places in entire country only surpassed by the castle. No one can know that we come in cooperation with the crown.” Her gaze turned thoughtful and she began to circle the hologram and the portrait.

 

“The princess is right. Our best bet of getting Altea out of Galran oppression is the Blade of Marmora.” Coran stroked his moustache, his usually upbeat demeanour hardened and serious.

 

“So we have to get inside that mountain, talk to that Axe-person, hope they just happen to have a nice day and tell us all about that secret rebel movement they are part of and we have no actual business knowing about?” Hunk crossed his arms and shot both of the royals a disbelieving look, “Very likely.”

 

“No,” said the Princess, eyes set on Lance and a small smile playing on her lips “we have a better idea.“

 

* * *

 

 

“Absolutely not.” Pidge crossed her arms, her eyes set ablaze with fury, her tone final.

 

The air on the controlling deck of the castle changed, grew heavier and heavier, until Lance’s bones groaned and ached under its strain. Her eyes met with those of the Princess and latched onto them.

 

“I will not let you put him in harm’s way like that. What is if he gets caught? I’m pretty sure criminals have better ways to torture someone than electrocution.”

 

The Princess flinched, hard, her shoulders coming all the way up to her ears. But she quickly caught herself and calmness came back to her. She argued against Pidge like he wasn’t someone to account like it wasn’t _his_ call to make.

 

“What makes both of you think you get a say in that?” He forced his voice calm, unnervingly calm and it seemed to work. _When you have something important to say, speak calmly and the people will strain to hear,_ his mother’s advice rang in his ears and manifested as a hand on his shoulder, manifested as a raw power that was enough to fully straighten out his posture and to make him meet their eyes.

 

“It is my decision, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow.

 

“You’re not putting yourself in danger like that. I won’t allow it!” Pidge now turned to him, furious that he would even consider listening to the princess.

 

“We need those documents, _You, in particular,_ need those documents, they may be the only link to your family.” He still wasn’t yelling but it came close. Pidge stared at him, as if he had ripped her open, anger, shock, fear, a terrifying mixture of something that was all and neither at the same time pouring out.

 

“No! _No_ , I won’t allow it!”

 

“But I have to do it anyway!” Lance now abandoned his mother’s advice, fueled by his anger at Pidge’s refusal to understand him. He balled his fists and took multiple steps forward.

“How can you think I’ll be able to live with the thought I could’ve helped and didn’t?!”

 

“How can you risk leaving me like they did?!” Pidge screamed, a sound coming from the depths of her throat and rocking her entire body. She plunged her fists inside her hair and broke out in sobs. Lance was at her side in an instant, his hands on her shoulders and his voice soft as silk.

 

“Pidge. Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Pidgey, Pidge look at me.” But his words fell onto deaf ears. Pidge just lowered her head further and mumbled under her breath, her voice so tiny, so thin and yet full of panic.

 

“You─ You are…. leaving─ gone─ You─  ‘ving me alone jus’ like─ they did.” Her words were battered by sobs, torn open like gunshot wounds and hurt just the same. Lance’s heart clenched when he pulled her to his chest, arms enveloping her shuddering frame and rocking her slightly.

 

Lance looked up just in time, to meet Hunks eyes over her head as he was closing the door behind the others that had apparently left to give them privacy. His eyes filled to the brim as he saw the teary stare, torn by the same fear and sadness. His heart clenched, a sensation he felt in his entire body and Lance averted his eyes, unable to hold the stare for longer.

 

He squeezed Pidge tighter as he heard the doors slide shut and rocked her from left to right and right to left. It seemed like an eternity until the shivers started to fade, giving way to slight tremors as opposed to full body shaking.

But her tears didn’t stop, they still ran when she tore from his embrace.

 

His arms flopped down to his sides as she pinned him with a stare, powerful though it was blurred by tears. The blotchy redness of her cheeks shimmered like warpaint and her voice was surprisingly steady when she spoke.

“You can’t do this. Not like this.”

 

Lance inhaled deeply, his eyes darting over her head to the door, sweet temptation, but he needed to have this conversation. “Pidge,” his voice broke, but he caught himself, “I have to do this. Think of the intel they could have, think of how much closer you could come to finding your family. Think of─”

 

 

“How I’ll end up crying over your corpse, battered by gunshots just because I listened to you.”

 

Lance flinched hard, his entire body recoiling, as she continued to pin him down with her eyes. Tear stained dedication lined her features as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her only armour against anything he had to say.

 

“Pidge, I won’t ask for your permission to do this. It has to be done, so I’ll do it.” Anger rose in him. Anger at how she didn’t even consider letting him have his own opinion, didn’t even consider that he could get something right, for once.

 

“So that’s it. You expect us to help you walk right into your death, to help you greet it with open arms?” He clearly heard and saw the fear and worry that laid under her poisonous words and he softened, wanting to sooth the pain and worry for her.

 

He opened his mouth, shoulders slumping, both apologies and amends already forming on his tongue as─

 

 _Can’t you get something right, McClain? Aren’t you tired of letting other people carry your weight just because your toothpick arms can’t handle it?_ Iverson’s voice rang through his mind and suddenly that was all there was. He didn’t see, he didn’t breathe, he just listened.

 

 _You can’t do this. I don’t trust you to be able to do this,_ Iverson’s voice bled away and Shiro appeared. And somehow that hurt even worse. Lance wanted nothing more than to cover his ears, to yell and scream until he drowned out their voices. But he couldn’t.

 

He just let the poison, that had somehow managed to follow him all the way through the desert, work its way. It spread and spread so that when he opened and closed his mouth to start speaking a new, there weren’t any apologies left for him to make There weren’t amends he could make. He could only offer stubbornness and a desperate try to prove his worth for once.

 

“I’ll do it, regardless of what you say.”

 

Pidge’s face hardened, its lines forged out of steel, as she just looked at him for a second and then started to walk. She walked right past him while Lance stood completely frozen. It felt like even his heartbeat had stopped.

 

The doors swished close behind her and his heart began to burn.

 

* * *

 

 

The following days of travel were filled with acting practice. Lance spent sometimes even up to hours pretending to be someone else, seeing the world through someone else’s eyes and building a new person.

 

He would stand in front of the tiny mirror in his room until he wasn’t there anymore until the soft vibrations of the castle’s engines beneath his feet would morph into the soil of the south, rich and deep, and suddenly he was back in his family’s container getting for a show. Longing curled like soft vines around his heart.

 

He would sit down in front of the mirror in their container, door locked, silence settling, to put on his make up for the show. Lance always had to be alone when he put on his make up for his first performance of the evening. It has always been that way. It didn’t matter so much for the later performances but he needed his half an hour of silence where there was no one but him and brushes and colours.

 

He let out a sigh, a soft sound hovering in in the air like smoke, when the door clicked shut behind him. He walked towards the mirrors opposite to him. He wrinkled his nose when he saw his precious makeup products crammed and stacked on top of each other, swaying dangerously when the stretching of his siblings and the acrobatics that came with it made the floor vibrate through the door. The southern containers were always the worst but he would have to make do with what he had.

 

He sat down in front of the mirror and applied his moisturiser. His eyes didn’t stray from his reflection once. He studied the soft arch of his dark eyebrows and focused on giving them his own slope instead of that of his sister Delilah’s.

 

He had spent the last hour imitating her, walking around in her skin and trying to see the world as she did. It was a fun exercise, a way to escape when being Lance was too much work when being Lance meant watching all of his siblings develop their talent and desperately waiting for _his_ thing to show as well.

 

All of them did it from time to time, he wasn’t startled anymore when his older sister Rosianna and his Brother Arden seemingly did a 180. She would straighten up to her full height like a rising sun. Her face would open up like a jar and _everything_ would fall out thoughts and feelings, vulnerabilities and insecurities, it would be right there, written in bold letters right across her face.

 

Arden, however, would become an eclipse, dark but still shining with the promise of light and warmth around the edges. Then he turned into a black hole, sucking up his and everyone else’s feelings. Everyone and everything would gravitate towards him, would draw closer and closer. Voluntarily or involuntarily, it didn’t matter. They couldn’t do anything about it anyway, not when he became something that seemed so, _so_ much bigger than anyone could understand.

 

It was stunning and addicting. Both to watch and to experience.

 

So who could blame Lance he wanted to become carefree and bright? When he wanted to abandon the whispers in his head for a while, wanted to not be Lance sometimes but someone else. Every fibre of his being rushed and pulsed when he became someone new, _someone exciting_.

 

He moved on to his foundation and watched the shine in his eyes dull. Watched the tide in them go out and leave behind still waters, shallow and dark.

 

His movements were practised, precise but his mind was elsewhere.

 

This was their last show for a while. His flight back to the Garrison was booked and his bags have been packed ever since they left the capital to continue their tour in the south. A looming reminder of his impending return, of his abandonment of colours and sparkles and brightness in favour of… what?

 

He scoffed.

 

Iverson yelling at him to go faster, to do better, to _be_ better. Sleepless nights spent over flight manuals and simulator handbooks looking for the _one_ clue that would fix all of his problems, that would make all his troubles go away, that would make him surpass everyone.

Whispers and questions why he was even there, passed between the mouths and ears of his peers, unknowing that they were only echoes of what was already ringing in his head.

The desperate yearning to catch up to the rest of them, him running and running and running, without gaining on them. Lance could already feel the cramps in his calves, the burn in his lungs.

 

He slammed the foundation brush back onto the table, the movement harsher than he intended and went onto eyeshadow.

 

Meanwhile, he abandoned the dark looming thoughts of the Garrison, banned them to the darkest corner of his mind, where they would without a doubt fester and churn. But that was a problem for _Future_ _Lance_ , not this one.

 

Inky blue spread over his eyelids and Lance searched for _Performance Lance_ , the one that could captivate an entire room, that could command attention and actually keep it. Whose loudness and smiles weren’t a disturbance but charming and intriguing.

 

His performance started to play out in his mind like a film. The ground shook and trembled with the thunders of applause and his body absorbed it, turning it into pure energy. He stood on the grey stairs underneath the floor of the stage, the ghost of his mother’s perfume curling around him like a silk cloak, like divinity and strength.

 

Then the ceiling around him opened,  the platform beneath his feat rose and then he was there.

 

Amidst a sea of applause.

 

His muscles coiled and rippled as he gripped the silk rope and pulled himself upwards until he was more flying than not. His body twisted and curved, his limbs sparkling like stars and his smile wider than the universe.

 

The audience erupted and his blood was singing. Their attention and admiration flew over his skin like sparks, leaving buzzing trails behind. Silk coiled and uncoiled around his legs which were sometimes over and sometimes under his head. Muscles memory took over while his mind was caught in bliss.

 

They were looking at _him_. Him, and no one else. It was like a drug.

 

The rush in his veins rose and rose in a deafening crescendo, his movements agile and breathtaking, as he spun faster and faster.

And then it was over.

 

He heard the ripping of fabric and slammed back into the castle, the floor rumbling beneath his feet, the echoes of his imagined applause still in his ears. The impact that had never been left him gasping, desperate for air.

 

The Lance that had performed in his mind, that had captivated an entire audience and had left them gasping was nothing more than a memory.

 

 _Regular Lance_ , boring and dull, stared back at him. It was like a bad cosplay, sad and pathetic and Lance didn’t want to see it. He wanted back to colours and glitters, to shows and stages. But he had a job to do. _Regular Lance_ had made a promise and he had to keep it.

 

* * *

 

Lance left his room afterwards, not knowing where to go he started making rounds in the castle halls until his feet brought him here. He hovered in the door frame, hesitating. He bit his lip when he took in what was in front of him.

 

Pidge had abandoned both her sweater and her shoes and pretty much claimed Hunk’s entire bed for herself. Hunk fitted himself around her like they were two puzzle pieces waiting to be connected. Both were working on tech that would help them inside the mountain tomorrow and didn’t seem to have noticed him standing there.

 

Pidge was balancing her laptop on her chest, as she was typing furiously, while Hunk was double and triple-checking the earpiece Lance would wear the next day. Even though he refused to speak to Lance after he had made his decision, Hunk had glared Coran down until he relented when he suggested he’d build the earpieces.

 

Lance didn’t know if it was his imagination playing tricks on him but he wanted to believe that there was still room left for him at the foot of the bed just like when they were still at the Garrison. Bedsharing had become a habit of them, once he had annoyed Pidge into participating. They would start out with him leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed Hunk on his right and Pidge on his left. Over the course of one or two hours, they would grow into a tight knot of limbs. It had been the closest thing to being at home he had felt at the Garrison. The day the connection to the southern parts of the country had cut out, they had wordlessly gone to their rooms and fallen into bed. Pidge had dried both their tears and held them as tight as she could.

 

“Are you going to stay there forever?” Her voice was cold and hard, but her eyes weren’t in it.

 

Lance didn’t answer. He didn’t know how he was supposed to apologise to them, didn’t know whether he actually wanted to. He started to fidget as Pidge continued to stare him down. Eventually, Hunk had pity on him. He let out a sigh, that sounded like it came out of the depths of his chest and lifted his arm.

 

A silent invitation.

 

Lance moved slowly to give them enough time to change their minds. He toed off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket. He crawled next to Hunk and ducked beneath his arm. When he finally settled, it was like all of the tension that he had carried with him for so long that it had become normal, slowly oozed out of him. It felt he had been holding his breath for the last few days and now finally got to exhale. For a while, there was only Pidge’s typing that filled the room.

 

Lance’s throat swelled with the words he needed to say. “I’m sor ─ ”

“Don’t.” Pidge interrupted him. “You don’t get to act like tomorrow is the end.” She didn’t look at him, Lance wouldn’t be able to meet her eyes anyway.

“You will go in, get those document and come back to us, we will make sure of that.” Hunk tightened his grip on Lance’s shoulders and didn’t react when Lance gave in to the tears that were burning behind his eyelids.

 

He wanted to say something anyway, wanted to thank them for actually letting him do this. Because that was how it had always been. Lance would be adamant about doing something, would inevitably fail and they would be there to pick up the broken pieces he left behind. His tears dampened Hunk’s shirt as he tried and failed to contain them and Hunk pulled him closer.

 

Neither of them said anything, neither of them needed to.

 

Time passed and Lance slipped in and out of sleep until a silhouette in the doorframe caught his eye. He struggled to lift his head and his eyes met Keith’s. Keith shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and then back again and again and again. His teeth were buried deep in his bottom lip but he still didn’t avert his eyes.

 

Keith had already turned around halfway when Lance stopped him. “No, don’t.” He lowered his voice so he wouldn’t disturb Hunk and Pidge, slumbering peacefully beside him. And to his surprise, Keith actually listened

 

Silence spread between them and Lance used it to study Keith. To take in the tension in his shoulders, the way his constantly curling and uncurling his fists, how his exhaustion hung over him like a looming beast.

 

Lance, who would later blame everything on his sleepiness, swallowed once and then lifted his arm. “Come here.”

Keith raised his eyebrows and Lance lowered his arm. “Why?”

“Scared?” Lance gave his voice a hint of challenge and Keith, stubborn and unwilling to back down from a dare, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Lance didn’t even bother to hide the hint of his smile when Keith scoffed but came closer anyway.

 

His movements were stilted and stiff as he slipped under Lance’s arm and rested his head on the side of his ribcage. Keith flinched when Lance put his arm down to rest on the tense muscles of his back.

“Shut up,” Keith snapped, quietly but no less venomously.

“Didn’t say anything,” Lance answered, rolling his eyes. They remained that way for a while, unmoving, with nothing but Hunk’s deep breaths and Pidge’s sporadic snores to fill the silence that hung between them.

 

“You’re bony.” Keith retched a hand free from where it was squished between their bodies and poked at Lance’s ribs. Lance recoiled.

“Shut up! And stop, that tickles!” Keith huffed out what might have been the beginnings of a laughter in said bony rib cage and Lance shivered.

 

“Why are we doing this?” Keith didn’t lift his head. He had set his hand somewhere on Lance’s hip and Lance had been so focused on ignoring its warmth that travelled all the way down to the marrow of his bones that he almost missed the question. Keith made an inquiring sound but still didn’t lift his head.

 

“I don’t know,” Lance answered slowly. The words were still taking shape in his mind, so he gave them the time to form fully. Saying the right thing the wrong way was just as bad as lying. “You seemed like you needed it─” Keith scoffed and Lance rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh right,“ His voice was dripping with sarcasm and he felt Keith’s back muscles tense beneath his fingers, “I forgot the lone wolf doesn’t need anything”

“That’s not true.” Lance felt his answer rather than heard it, its tiny vibrations beneath his fingertips, the words slipping through the space between his ribs.

 

“If you say so,” dismissed Lance his answer because _why shouldn’t he_?

“You don’t believe me.”

“No I don’t” Lance frowned even though Keith couldn’t see his face. It sounded a less cutting and more like a plea for convincement than Lance intended but he batted the thought away like a pesky fly.

“Then don’t,” Keith answered, shrugging, and that was it his plea, as reluctant as it was, went unanswered and Lance had nothing else to say.

 

They fell silent again.

 

“Why are we doing this?” Keith yanked him back from the precipice of sleep. But something in his voice, a nuance of urgency, that hadn’t been there before, silenced his protest.

 

“Like I said, you seemed like you needed it─,” His voice didn’t lower, didn’t mark the sentence as finished. Keith had taken a step earlier, actually tried closing the distance between them, otherwise they wouldn’t be here right now, so now was Lance’s turn.

“ ─ and maybe I needed it too.”

 

And Lance met him halfway.

 

His words were almost inaudible, swallowed by the rustling of Pidge moving, but Keith heard them anyway and the tension, slowly but surely, bled out of his back and out of his shoulders. That was enough for an answer.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Sleep would never come easy again_. The thought had been a bleak prediction at first and had manifested as an unmovable fact, a certainty that now had to be accounted for.

 

Shiro lay in bed, the sheets silken and cool against his bare back. His eyes were set to the ceiling but they only met darkness. He sighed, a sound blackened by exhaustion. Rest has been evading him for quite some time now. He didn’t know whether that was a bad thing or not. He didn’t want to see what was lurking in the depths of his mind.

 

He clenched and unclenched his fists, his right one still creaked when he moved it. The sound, high-pitched and thin, was usually easy to ignore but here in darkness and silence, it was deafening. He lifted his left arm and then his right and left and then right. Again and again.

 

He didn’t feel a difference anymore. His thought processes were the same, the feeling was the same, it had become a part of him. He activated the fight mode and violet light flooded the room. He listened to the steady hum and felt its heat on his chest and then turned it back off again.

 

It merely took a thought.

 

He traced its contours with his finger and recoiled when they met wetness. The darkness in front of his eyes became textured, morphed and shifted until he didn’t recognise it anymore. Just like that, he wasn’t on the ship anymore.

Just like that, he wasn’t _Shiro_ anymore.

 

Applause, cries of euphoria, cries of his name ─ they all merged together in his ears and reverberated through his mind.

 

_Champion, Champion, Champion_

 

Shiro looked down to the Champion’s hands ─ he couldn’t bear the thought that he had to claim the atrocities they had committed ─ both flesh and metal, drenched in blood. His insides shrivelled up in disgust. He lifted his head and took in the arena. Took in the stands, so full that it seemed like the even pillars beneath them were aching and groaning in exhaustion.

 

The chanting rose and rose, a sweeping ascent coloured in tragedy. Shiro felt it vibrate in his core. _Champion, Champion, Champion_.

 

His vision was tormenting him, it showed him flashes. Real or false? Memory or imagination? Both blended together seamlessly. The witch’s smile, a cruel blade framed by angry red markings. Her fingertips, the buzz of wrong energy beneath them, ghosting along the scar tissue on his arm.

 

 _Champion, Champion, Champion_.

Tears sprung up in his eyes in a desperate attempt to hold on to what little humanity the champion had left him. Cold sweat ran into his eyes and burned through them like acid but the chanting didn’t stop. It mixed with the witch’s laughter, her taunting coos.

It grew and grew.

 

His vision faded out. As did his sense of smell, as did the feeling in his skin. The world around him vanished one sense at a time. Until only his hearing remained. Because torture didn’t end just because the victim was already down.

 

 _Champion, Champion, Champion_. He gasped. And then─

 

It was over.

 

His hands were dry again and his eyes now gazed into the darkness, knowing that they would meet a ceiling. His harsh breaths echoed through the room and his heartbeat hammered against his ribs. The tremor in his legs travelled up the line of his spine, passed through his shoulders and lastly settled in his hands and fingers, its footsteps, deep and unfading.

 

He got up, his body weak and beaten, and left the room that now felt more like a cell. The dim lights of the hallway burned in his eyes but he could finally see himself again, see where his body ended and the arm began. His eyes had to do this, now that his mind had failed him.

 

Shiro walked for several minutes. He passed by the kitchen, the training deck, saw Coran asleep at his work desk, wires tangled in his moustache and his forehead frozen in an eternal frown. He continued. The armoury, the infirmary, countless rooms whose doors he hadn’t opened before and wouldn’t open now.

 

He passed by the control room, already poised to walk past it without a second thought when a pair of peculiar eyes caught his. He froze as the Princess continued to wordlessly stare at him, blue orbs searching and assessing, seeing and categorising.

The moment stretched on and on. Shiro stared right back, took in the dark rests of eyeliner gathering themselves in the bags underneath her eyes, loose strands of hair that had broken free from the rest of her white waves. His eyes caught on to the sharp curve of her cheekbones when she spoke.

 

“You don’t have to stand in the door like that, come in.” Words coloured by an exhaustion Shiro knew too well. He wanted to answer but she had already turned back to the hologram glowing behind her, so he clasped his shaking hands behind his back and entered.

The hologram showed a map he hadn’t seen before, a series of dots varying in size, connected by curved lines, with captions written in shapes he had seen before but couldn’t understand.

 

“What are you looking at, Your Royal Highness?” Her lips curled into a soft smile, a tiny sad thing and instead of answering she sank down to the floor. Shiro frowned but she met his gaze with a silent invitation. So he, too, sank down to the floor. All of the aches and trembles in his body groaned in protest but still, he complied. The Princess turned back to the hologram but remained quiet.

 

Shiro’s mind had already abandoned his question, filed it away under requests too bold to make, when she surprised him with an answer.

“It’s an encrypted map of the Capital, only a few know how to read it.” She waved her hand, the motion rippling and fluid and the map lost shape, its lines stretching and bunching, falling and rising, until they formed a three-dimensional model of a castle Shiro had seen countless times before.

 

“The castle, the amphitheatre, the merchants boulevard.” The map spun and spun and one after another a building appeared, “The Capital had been my family’s most prized treasure.” Her voice was thick with pain and grief but she didn’t take her eyes off the hologram.

“The dining hall, the kitchens, the view from the royal balcony.” Dozens upon hundreds of rooms sprawled out before them. The Princess balled her hands into fists and the blue glow around them faded, gave way for _real_ colour.

 

A breeze caressed his skin, a tenderness he hadn’t felt for a very long time and Shiro melted into it, as the smell of the spices sold on the marketplace beneath them and the cries of the merchants rose up to them. His grip on reality slipped as he took in the view from the balcony. Want, an old beast denied its wish one too many times, rose in his chest. It begged and clawed at his ribcage, demanding ─ _craving ─_ a world untouched by war.

 

But then, her hands uncurled.

 

At once the world around him vanished and blue glow, now harsh and unbearable, returned.

 

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” His voice was rough and Shiro searched her eyes. To live knowing that you could _have_ this, see this and then return to a reality where you never got to have it again─

 

“Call me Allura,” she shot him a smile full of sadness, “I’m not much of a Princess anymore, am I?” Unshed tears glittered in her eyes “There is no such thing as a Princess without a country.”

 

“Things have been taken from you, people have been taken from you,” Shiro swallowed, his voice wavering but he forced himself to continue, “but you are still a Princess. You can still take Altea back from those who have taken it from you.”

 

She didn’t answer. Her gaze, still blinking away tears she refused to shed, went to his hands instead. Her eyes narrowed at their tremor and Shiro suppressed the urge to hide them behind his back. Her scrutiny settled around him like a physical weight, a pull on his shoulders, at the bow of his spine. She saw all of his tells, the state of his hair, the unhealthy sheen to his skin bruised black beneath his eyes. Shiro bit his lip and fought the instinct to hide.

 

“Nightmare?” The Princess asked, her voice calm and steady again. He nodded. She made a soft sound he couldn’t place.

“Do you maybe want to talk about it?” She wore hesitation like a pair of ill-fitting shoes.

“You clearly have your own problems, I wouldn’t want to add to that.” He shook his head and raised his hands. There was no need to burden her with further discomfort.

“I _asked,_ didn’t I?” He forced himself to meet her eye and was met with silent determination, the kind strong enough to move a mountain, the kind strong enough to make him believe _he_ could move a mountain. he couldn’t help the small smile that spread on his lips and surprisingly she couldn’t either.

 

Their shared smile bloomed between them, a tiny bud baring its soft petals after a cold, harsh winter.

 

But then the doors swished open and Keith brought the winter back with him. He froze, his foot still hovering over the threshold. His expression turned unreadable and his entire body tensed.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Keith said, his voice silent but sharp, turned and vanished down the hallway. Shiro who had seen his retreating back one too many times this week mumbled a hasty apology and hurried after him. He chased him down several hallways, his bones aching and groaning. His lungs were burning when he finally caught up to him.

 

“What do you want?” Keith crossed his arms in front of his chest and defiantly raised his chin. But his demeanour didn’t fool Shiro. He clearly saw the signs of exhaustion, how his entire being seemed muted like someone had taken his colours and stolen their vibrancy.

 

“What do─”

 

“What’s going on with you Keith?” Shiro interrupted him.

“What do you mean?” Keith cocked his head but the steel in his eyes didn’t soften. His frowned deepened and Shiro widened his stance.

 

“You know what I mean.” Patience was threatening to abandon him, to yield to anger and frustration, vying to take its place.

“I obviously don’t.” Keith’s words were meant to come out cocky but they were strained and forced.

 

“Keith,” Shiro waited until he fully looked at him, his grim expression cut deep and Shiro had to brace himself not to flinch, “what is going on with you? What have I done that you have been avoiding me?”

 

“ _I said that there is nothing wrong with me!_ ” Keith snapped. Rage rolled off him in waves and flooded the hallway, it pooled around Shiro’s ankles, looming like a monster waiting to strike. But Shiro wouldn’t be scared. this was Keith, his anger would erupt out of him like a volcano, bright, hot and destructive but he wouldn’t hurt him, would never _mean_ to hurt him.

 

“I just want to help you, Keith but I can’t do that if you don’t let me,” Shiro kept his voice soft as he hesitantly took a step closer. But he felt Keith’s rage boil at his feet as he remained silent and pinned him with a glare.

 

“ _No!_ I won’t let you. Because there isn’t a problem! _I’m_ not some problem for you to fix, to satisfy your stupid hero complex!” Shiro recoiled, he couldn’t help himself. Keith’s rage rose between them like a wall he couldn’t penetrate. His heart cramped in pain as he desperately tried to reassure himself.

 

_He doesn’t mean it like that. He’s angry. He just needs a target. He doesn’t mean it like that. He’s angry. He just needs a target. He doesn’t mean it like that. He’s angry, He just needs a target._

 

“Keith, I don’t think you’re a problem to be fixed. You’re not broken─” Keith interrupted him, seething.

“Oh really? But that’s what you always do, isn’t it? You find some charity case, a broken person, and suddenly you’re their hero. Their _everything._ ” Red splotches covered his cheeks like war paint and the stream of words in Shiro’s head grew quieter and quieter. The words in his head withered away and died and Shiro felt like dying right with them.

 

“It’s what you’re doing right now, isn’t it? You found the Princess with the broken country and now you want to be her hero. But you can’t fix her, Shiro, or me. You can’t fix anyone” Keith was panting, his hand balled into fists and the veins on his neck pulsing.

 

Shiro gathered every semblance of strength, searched every crevice of his body, tensed all of his muscles and raised his chin. His spine straightened as his heart collapsed. But his voice was even when spoke, almost calm.

“I hope you feel better now, Keith. It seems like you needed that,” He swallowed as his voice broke, and forced himself to finish what he wanted to say, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned, his movements pulled by the strings of his self-restraint, and walked away. He wouldn’t let pain poison his words, so he chose to remain quiet. Because sometimes Keith needed someone to blame for his pain and Shiro would always be there to help.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah that happened. I didn't even intend to make it that angsty it just kinda happened i guess... whoops. i'd love to hear what you think! (and whether or not you hate me now). Come scream at me on my tumblr if you do: cxnfiscated.tumblr.com
> 
> anyWAYS BIG SEASON SEVEN SPOILER AHEAD SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED THIS IS YOUR CUE TO LEAVE (thank you for being here tho)
> 
>  
> 
> So Shiro is gay! and Adam exists!! I'm so happy about the representation!! But it means more work for me, as I don't really feel comfortable shipping Allura with Shiro now that his sexuality has been confirmed. So I'm abandoning this arc. INSTEAD,,,, Adam will be in my story. Probably more towards the end but he'll be there so stay tuned for that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HELLO IM BACK! Here's the new chapter!! Enjoy (and pls don't hate for the angst afterwards)
> 
> (Warnings: gun violence, grieving)

“Why don’t you just tell me where we’re going, Takashi?” Adam said for what was probably the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. But Shiro was enjoying this far too much to tell him.

“We’re almost there anyway, so there’s no point in telling you now.” Shiro couldn’t stop grinning at Adam’s impatience.

 

“At least give me my glasses back. I feel like a frail senior citizen, holding onto you like that.” Adam tightened his grip on his biceps as if to prove a point.

“You do know, you’re giving me more of an incentive to keep them, right?” Adam, nearsighted as he was, merely squinted up at him and kept on pouting instead of dignifying his question with an answer.

 

“Is being in my arms so unbearable?” Shiro was  _ definitely  _ enjoying this too much, he even put on a fake pout and shot Adam his best puppy eyes.

 

“What am I supposed to answer to that?” He tried to sound annoyed but his smile stole any of the harshness his words might have carried.

“The truth?” Shiro supplied, ever so helpful. He didn’t get that, though, no. But he  _ did _  get something way better.

 

Adam leaned up a tiny bit and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, a spark leaving buzzing trails all over Shiro’s skin.

“Just keep walking, Takashi.”

 

Shiro didn’t turn into a grinning fool after that. No, he absolutely did not.

 

They came to a door at the end of the hallway. Shiro handed Adam his glasses and opened it for him. “After you, love.” He still didn’t believe he got to say things like that now. It felt like a dream, like every wish, every shooting star, every set of birthday candles had brought him here, to Adam.

 

Shiro entered after him and switched the lights on. At once, dozens upon dozens of scattered little lights illuminated and revealed a table set for two in the middle of the room.

 

“Takashi, what is this?” Adam turned to face him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Since I was the reason we couldn’t attend the Garrison Banquet this year —“

 

“You were sick!” Adam interrupted.

 

But Shiro just continued talking. “And I know how important it was to you. I wanted to give you something.” Shiro lowered his eyes when he felt heat creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

“I know it’s no banquet but… ” He trailed off when Adam cupped his cheek. The warmth in his eyes stole the words forming in his throat and took his breath right with them.

 

“Thank you.” Adam leaned up and pressed his lips against Shiro’s. It wasn’t exactly a kiss. It was both less and more than that. A soft, lingering touch coloured in shades of intimacy, a declaration of affection, silent but without hesitation.

 

They parted, the colour of love high on their cheeks and smiling like the lovesick fools they were. “We should eat,” Shiro whispered, his voice rough, as he forced himself not to hold onto to Adam when he took a step back and walked towards the table.

 

“Hey, this my turn to be romantic!” Shiro complained when Adam pulled back the chair for him to sit down. Adam rolled his eyes at him. “You’re still not fully recovered─“

“But I feel so much better already,” Shiro interrupted him before the shine in Adam’s eyes could be dulled by worry.

“I know but please let me fuss over you for a bit. It helps me sleep at night.” Adam put on one of his softest smiles, the one capable of melting glaciers.

 

Shiro wanted to disagree. He  _ was _ , in fact, feeling better. He had been officially released from the infirmary and had done nothing but rest in the last few days. Not that he had had much of a choice in that matter. Adam had threatened to chain him to their bed if even so much attempted to leave their apartment.

 

But every hint of protest melted under the warmth in Adam’s smile. So Shiro gave in. He nodded and Adam lifted up his hand to press a kiss on one of Shiro’s knuckles.

“Thank you.”

 

Shiro pulled his hand from his grip, pointedly ignoring the heat that returned to its home on his cheeks, and lifted the lid over their food. The soup was still steaming despite the cool temperatures and Shiro almost burned himself when he lifted the plate off the tray.

 

“How did you manage to pull this off?” Adam cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow.

“Would you believe me if I told you, I did this all on my own?”

“Shiro, you managed to mess up pasta the other day,” Adam deadpanned.

“Solid point,” Shiro admitted. Adam huffed out a small laugh.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you. Matt helped me with setting all of this up and I bribed head chef Martha to help with the food.”

 

“She  _ hates  _ you!” Adam stared at him in disbelief but Shiro’s eyes were fixated on the small droplet of soup on the corner of his mouth. He leaned over the table to wipe it off and couldn’t help but smile around his thumb when he saw a faint blush rise on his cheeks.

 

“Okay, first of all,  _ ouch _ . She doesn’t hate me, it’s merely intense dislike, “Adam raised an eyebrow as if to say,  _ there’s a difference? _  but Shiro ignored him, “Second: She loves you more than she loves her own child. So I only had to mention that otherwise  _ I’d _  have to cook for you and she was completely fine with preparing all of this.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be at least a  _ bit  _ hurt by the fact that your bad cooking beats her hatred of you?” Adam asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Technicalities.” Shiro brushed off his point, a cocky grin on his lips

 

Something deep inside his chest settled, when he saw the tense lines of Adam’s shoulders soften, when he saw the worry that had become another part of his face, that had blended in just like his glasses did, fade. They settled into their banter like it was a well-loved armchair, designed for the both of them and they only got up for the part Shiro had been most excited for.

 

After they both had finished their dessert, Shiro got up and extended his towards Adam. “May I?” Adam hesitated. “Shiro, are you su─?”

Shiro had already hidden the fondness that was spreading in his heart by rolling his eyes when he realised, he didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to hide his love for Adam anymore, now that he knew that what he was feeling would reciprocated. That he could voice his feelings, bold and proud, and receive an equal echo in return.

 

“Yes, I am. Now, would you please grant me the honour of having this dance?” Even he could hear the barely concealed excitement in his voice. He probably looked like a complete fool, his cheeks permanently stained red, wide, dopey smile on his lips and his words thrumming with enthusiasm.

 

But maybe, Shiro thought to himself, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

 

Adam gripped his hand and sparks travelled up all the way to his shoulder. Shiro whispered a small thank you and then pulled him closer towards the middle of the room. His other hand gripped the remote he was carrying in one of his pockets and turned on the music. The soft notes of the  _ Moonlight Serenade  _ began to fill the room.

 

Adam wrapped his arms around his waist, Shiro wrapped his around Adam’s neck and so they danced. It was more of a lazy sway if anything. Small steps, chest to chest. Time around them began to stretch, like warm honey trickling down a spoon as if they had all of it in the world.

 

Shiro smiled, Adam smiled back and before they even had time to think about which one of them had moved first, their lips met. The birth of a star, bright and powerful,  _ a bang, a crash _ , that went unheard but made their bones tremble with the force of it.

 

A kiss became many. A star turned into a constellation.

An exchange of smiles, the response to a question neither of them had asked but both craved to hear the answer of.

 

_ One more?  _ Another press of lips, warm and vibrant.

 

But when Shiro opened his eyes, what greeted him was the ceiling of his room. He had kicked off the sheets during the night and laid sprawled out on his bed, grogginess weighing down his limbs.

 

The music was still ringing in his ears, soft, beautiful notes unfurling around him, his lips were still tingling and Adam’s hand was still warming the metal of his right hand. Shiro sighed and forced himself to shake off the rest of the dream.

 

The past couldn’t have a place in his mind. Not when it meant, he was one dream away from abandoning the present to chase after it like a fool.

 

* * *

 

 

This morning was one of the worse ones. Her entire body was pulsing and aching and the harsh lights burned in her eyes. She groaned, already regretting the decision to sleep at all. What was the point in sleeping when the only thing she got out of it was more exhaustion?

 

She’d have to get up soon, or maybe she was supposed to be up already. She didn’t know and couldn’t bring herself to care. Every bone in her body had been lined with lead and denied any movement. It didn’t surprise her. All of the sleepless nights she had spent in the control room, refusing to yield to her exhaustion, had taken their toll. So this had been a long time coming.

 

But still, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

 

Each morning she had used the desire of revenge to fuel herself, to force herself out of bed to tackle whatever hurdles the day decided to throw at her. Every morning hatred had pulled her out of bed as if it were her puppeteer.

 

Her strings had been spun out of grief and mourning, out of memories she had locked out of her mind and that then went on to find other ways to haunt her. These strings didn’t have mercy to give, didn’t yield when her body couldn’t keep up with the circles her mind was running. But eventually, each thread would have to snap.

 

And here she was, a marionette with torn strings.

 

She closed her eyes when tears welled up behind her eyes. Each of the threads now wanted a new home. It was as if her heart itself was stretching and tearing, desperately trying to make space for unwanted guests. But  _ guests  _ wasn’t the right word. Guests implied that there would be a departure, that there would be a day where all this suffering would end.

 

This suffering knew no end.

 

It was a storm built for an eternity because the sun, powerful enough to chase away the clouds, had been taken from her. She knew that once the clouds were to pass, the only thing that would great her was a starless sky.

 

She sighed when she heard a knock on her door. “Princess, may I come in please?” Allura forced herself to answer and let him in.

 

“Allura,” was all that Coran said, his voice low and sad, and suddenly Allura was ten years younger, small and scared, with only Coran to turn to.

He said down next to her bed and slowly began caressing her hair.

 

“I paint quite the pathetic picture.” She couldn’t keep the self-loathing out of her voice. She, a princess supposed to rule a country, unable to even get out of bed in the morning. Her apathy morphed into disgust.

 

“You’re mourning, we both are,” he answered, words laced with pain that mirrored hers.  Her tears kept flowing like unending river streams that pooled like oceans on her pillow.

 

“It feels like I’m caught in a nightmare and yet, every time I pinch myself my body tells me that I’m awake, that this is the reality we live in.” As if someone had torn down the dam built in her throat, the words began to flow.

 

“I see them everywhere! I expect to turn around and find father leaning over one of his inventions, expect to find mother on the training deck.” A broken sob tore out of her chest when Coran reached out and gripped her hand.

 

“I can’t take this anymore.” She sounded like a frightened child. Coran reached up and pulled her to his chest. Gathered her up in his arms like he used to do it when she was a small girl listening to his stories of a world vastly different from this one, worlds where her smiles didn’t feel like a lie.

 

They remained in that position for a very long time and if Allura closed her eyes she could almost pretend that she was back in the castle, that time didn’t matter and that she didn’t have to worry about anything.

 

But her imagination was a house of cards and a beep was all it took to make it crumble.

 

“I’m sorry but I need to go, Princess.” Coran sounded as tired as she felt and her heart ached at the thought that she was one of the things keeping him up at night.

“You still have an hour before we start preparations.” An opportunity to recompose herself before anyone else saw her like this. He knew her too well. The thought made the corners of her mouth lift slightly and Coran, as if he heard, answered in kind.

 

* * *

 

His thoughts kept trying to drown him and Coran’s voice out of the communicator in his ear was the only thing he could hold onto.

 

“How long do we have to do this?” Lance masked the turmoil in his head as annoyance, even threw in an eye roll, though Coran couldn’t see him.

“I’ve told you before, we have to talk for at least an hour to see if there are any problems with the communicator,” Coran explained patiently, despite being asked the same question for the fourth time in half an hour.

“But I’ve already done this twice with Hunk and Pidge,” Lance whined.

 

He had done nothing else but prepare for the mission. He had adapted his persona so well that even he didn’t quite know where one began and the other ended. He had spent hours walking around the castle to test out the communicators. Double and triple checks became the norm. He chased the feeling of accomplishment, the sense of  _ yes, you have done enough _ , but it didn’t come, no matter what he did.

 

“Lance, please.” Coran sounded so incredibly tired that Lance didn’t find it in him to press on further. Times so bleak that they even dulled Coran’s shine didn’t need him to make them worse. “I’m sorry.”

 

But Coran brushed him off, close to his usual chipperness but not quite.

“Can we at least talk about something other than the weather or what’s for dinner?” Lance asked. He wouldn’t be able to stand an hour or possibly more of idle small talk.

“Alright then, what do you want to talk about?”

 

Lance bit his lip, the question already resting on his tongue. But he hesitated, didn’t quite dare to give in to his curiosity. He remained silent for a moment while curiosity and hesitation fought for dominance. But in the end, curiosity emerged as the victor.

 

“Tell me about the Capital.” It was too desperate to pass as a question but Coran answered anyway.

“You’ve already seen it, haven’t you?”He sounded almost too neutral to seem natural so Lance pressed on. Now that he had indulged his curiosity there was no way that he could stop it.

“But living there is a different thing.”

“Yes, it truly is.” Even the slight crackle of the communicator couldn’t hide the softness in his voice. “My favourite place was the market square. Merchants from all over the country and even some from the Galran Empire would come and sell their goods.”

 

Coran was lost in memory, his words slow and full of fondness. It sounded like a funeral speech, the  _ In loving memory  _ for a home lost forever.

 

“It was the heart of the city. At any time of day, be it at night when almost everyone else had already gone to sleep or during the day, beneath the sun, there would always be something new to find. It was like a treasure chest for everyone, rich or poor.”

 

Lance wanted to laugh at his last sentence.  _ Rich or poor _ . There were no poor people in the Capital, poor in the Capital still meant rich everywhere else. But he didn’t want to taint a picture that was so drawn out of love. Instead, he kept asking.

 

“What is your favourite thing you’ve ever gotten from the market?” His puzzle of Coran began to fill and colours got the shading they needed to be real.

Coran chuckled. “It’s a small snow globe that played a lullaby. It was ancient, over a hundred years old I believe, but my niece loved it.”

 

The warmth in his voice reached Lance even through the communicator and wrapped itself around his heart. The favourite thing Coran had gotten had been a gift for somebody else. Maintaining the wariness of Alteans that he still carried around with him from before Sorans was a harder now that he knew this.

 

“Anyway,” The softness slipped off Coran like a coat that didn’t fit him anymore and chipperness took its place again, “I also fondly remember the shows you and your family performed for us in the castle.”

A blush spread on Lance’s cheeks like it always did when someone mentioned the circus. The now calm ocean inside his head rose again in an attempt to pull him under, as he heard Rosianna’s quiet, teasing voice in the back of his head ─  _ Tomato! Tomato! _  ─ but he clawed his way back to the surface.

 

“The shows

in the Capital were always our biggest productions. Everyone would go all out.” The smile on his lips spread as the memory in his mind took shape and began to consume him. “The planning took us months to finish.”

Coran chuckled. “I can imagine. I remember a certain trick.  _ The invisible silks _ , I think it was called. It stumps me to this day. I know that there was a glamour in place and know how those glamours work. But I still can’t tell you which colours the silk had”

“To be honest, I can’t either and I was hanging there.” Coran erupted in boisterous laughter and Lance joined him. It had taken him ages to start seeing the silks, to learn seeing beyond what his eyes led him to believe.

“My children always loved the fire dancers. They said the sparkled so beautifully,” said Coran after Lance asked him about his opinion on different parts of the show. As if the reality, in which he and his family would huddle closely and debate on all of the different aspects that went into a single performance, still existed.

“You have children?” Lance knew he was being nosy but Coran didn’t seem to mind.

“Yes, two beautiful little daughters, Charlotte and Annalise,” Sadness painted his voice in shades of blue and Lance immediately felt guilty for asking his next question.

“Have they escaped the Capital? “

He didn’t expect an answer but Coran answered anyway.

“They were also invited to the banquet.” His voice was trembling and Lance felt like the worst person on earth.

“Coran… I’m ─ I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Lance.” But his words didn’t soothe the sense of guilt that was building in his chest. He remained silent afterwards, deeming he had inflicted enough harm by talking for the day.

He kept walking so that Coran could see if the communicator picked up the steps or filtered them out. If it did, it would make listening to Lance while he was running a lot easier. Their plan didn’t involve him running at any time but Pidge and Hunk had forced him to run laps around the castle until they managed to filter the sounds anyway.

Boredom began to rise again but Keith turned around the corner and crushed it beneath his boot. “I need to talk to you.” He pinned Lance with an intense stare, turned and then began walking in the other direction. Lance remained frozen, wide-eyed and gaping.

Keith looked over his shoulder. “You coming?”

_ The goddamn nerve. _

“Coran? We should be done here, right?” He didn’t wait for a response before turned off the earpiece and hurried to catch up to Keith. Keith didn’t even acknowledge his presence instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead. They walked down a few hallways until Keith opened the door to a room Lance had never been too before.

It took him a few minutes to realise that it was Keith’s room. It didn’t seem like a room at all, at first but then he noticed the unmade bed in the corner and the pile of weapons next to it. Keith obviously lived in here but the room still felt bare, had the air of not yet lived in, as if the fact that it was now a home hadn’t been accepted yet.  _ That makes two of us, _  Lance thought bleakly when he turned to Keith who was leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

“What do you want?” Lance mirrored his posture and slightly raised his chin. It felt almost like he was bracing himself and in some way it was. He had done nothing but argue with Keith in the last few days.

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Keith’s voice was filled to the brim with doubt and his eyes spoke the same language. Lance balled his hands into fists.

“Yes, I am.”

Keith’s seed of doubt travelled too deep for him to pretend that it didn’t touch him but he tried to anyway. He gave himself an air of false confidence, unending self-assurance, that even Keith couldn’t tear down. Who knew? Keith was bad at reading people’s emotions ─ that much had become evident over the last few weeks ─ maybe it would actually work.

“You don’t think I can do this, do you?” Lance asked. His words didn’t carry the true doubt that lay beneath them. Instead, he had dressed them up as accusations, gave them the appearance of concealed anger.

“No.” Keith’s entire body, from his face over the position of his shoulders down to the stance of his boots, proved the truth behind his answer and that beyond anything pierced Lance to the core. Keith could have taken all of the swords and daggers that laid piled next to his bed, plunged them into his heart and it still would have hurt less than his words.

_ Have I not proven my worth yet? _

The question plagued him, had been doing so for nights now but Lance refused to cave. He did the opposite. He straightened out his posture and deepened his scowl without averting his eyes. “Fine, then. I’ll do it anyways and I don’t need your permission, nor do I even want it.”

Lance walked over to the door, ready storm out but Keith remained rooted in front of it like a tree. “Lance.” Keith gripped his forearm. His touch burned all the way down to his bone and Lance was sure he would later find scorch marks in the shapes of his fingers imprinted on his skin.

“Keith.” Lance didn’t back down even though the flames he felt in Keith’s touch burned even brighter in his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” Keith said softly in an attempt to calm Lance’s anger. Oh, but Lance had long since surpassed the point of return.

_ And that’s where you’re wrong. _

Lance didn’t voice his thoughts instead, he just shook his head and walked past him. Keith’s grip loosened and fell away entirely when he brushed past him and let the doors slide shut behind him.   
  


* * *

 

 

_ This will end in flames, _  Hunk thought. There was no way they could pull this off. These thoughts and many variations of them rang in in his mind, again and again. His hands were clammy and shaking and all he could think about was that he never should have agreed to this. This entire mission was doomed and they hadn’t even set foot inside the mountain yet.

 

Hunk didn’t speak a word for the whole duration of their drive to the mountain and, thankfully, Keith didn’t either. The mess in Hunk’s mind was too great to focus on any outside voices.

 

Keith and he had been crammed into to back part of the shuttle like luggage. Although Keith was a good part shorter than him, they still sat knee to knee leaned against opposing walls. The vibrations of the engine, the looming feeling of dread, they filled the shuttle. Even if they had wanted to talk they wouldn’t have been able to. Their words wouldn’t have fit, there was no room for a conversation to unfold. So they settled on silence.

 

Snippets of his conversation with Allura and the following discussions and planning sessions with the rest of the team, bits and pieces of their plan, his own panic-ridden thoughts, they buzzed around in his mind like a swarm of angry bees. He wrung his hands and looked out of the window of the shuttle, the glass vibrating alongside the engine beneath their feet.

 

_ “We need to split up for this to work.” Pidge looked to Shiro and Allura, expecting them to agree with her. When neither of them voiced any protest, she continued, “I’ll be looking for any information in their databases and it makes sense for you, Shiro to come with me.” _

 

_ “Shouldn’t I go in with Lance to offer backup in case things go south?” Shiro asked. _

 

_ “No, no, no. Pidge is right. Your face has been broadcasted across the country when the Garrison began to spread the rumour of your treason. Anyone would recognise you,” Lance said, pacing up and down the room. His steps were unusually long, and even his posture was better, it seemed like he was already slipping into his act for the mountain. _

 

_ “You’re also quite, I don’t know… flashy, you know. I mean with the metal arm, the scars, your patch of grey hair. People would remember you too easily,” Hunk added. _

 

_ “First of all, my hair is white, not grey,” Shiro insisted petulantly, though both Lance, Pidge and even Keith laughed at his expression, “But you’re right. I’ll go with Pidge then.” _

 

_ Hunk turned to Keith. “That leaves me and you on Lance duty then.” _

_ Keith shot him a small lopsided grin. “Looks like it.” _

 

_ “Do I get a say in this?” Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled at them. _

 

_ “No.” Keith scowled right back at him. _

 

_ Lance scoffed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night then, mullet.” _

Again and again, Hunk mulled over their division. Thought through every possible alternative, asked what if and then asked again and again. His shaking limbs, the pounding in his chest, they were trying to catch up to his mind, to slow it down. But in vain, his mind was running, running and running and yet he himself could never catch up. It stayed miles ahead.

__

The drive was over before Hunk was ready to face what laid at the end of it. Before he knew it, Keith and he were in the swap mountain, its low ceilings looming over them. Hunk didn’t know what exactly he expected from the swap mountain and it didn’t matter anyway in the end. What he saw exceeded all of his expectations by far, as concrete or vague as they might have been.

__

The entire mountain had been hollowed out as if someone had taken a spoon and scooped out the inside like ice cream. Rock as dark as the night sky stretched up into wuthering heights. But that wasn’t even the most impressive, no, not even close. Hunk gaped at the lines of what seemed like liquid gold carving their ways through it like veins. They gave off a faint glow, bathing the inside of the mountain in candle-like light.

__

The sight was so breathtaking even Keith was stunned and had to take in the hustle and bustle of the marketplace at the foot of the steps for a second. But he caught himself way quicker than Hunk did.

“Come on, we have to keep moving.” The debris of his crumbling calmness crashed down on him when he remembered the seriousness and gravity of their situation. Now wasn’t the time for wide-eyed staring like an idiot.

__

Hunk envied how easily Keith blended into the atmosphere of the mountain, he didn’t even have to try. He pulled his red scarf over his mouth and his nose, just like the day they’d met him. The visible part of his face wore his usual mask of coldness while his body glinted dangerously, the light hitting one of his blades he hadn’t bothered to hide this time.

__

Meanwhile, Hunk over here felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of the day.

__

They walked down the steps leading to the actual marketplace of the mountain. At least that’s what Hunk thought it was. There weren’t any stands or tents, every merchant, if they could even be referred to as such, was seated on either stacked boxes that probably contained their goods or walked around freely, offering their merchandise to whoever happened to walk past them.

__

“We should probably split up,” Keith murmured but his words amplified through their communicators. “Yell if you need me.”

And just like that he was gone, slipped into the moving crowd in front of them like there was no other place where he could possibly be.

__

And Hunk was alone.

__

He forced his heartbeat calm and joined the moving crowd at the foot of the steps. Hooded figures, hushed conversations interrupted by yelling merchants, coins glinting here and there. He caught peoples eyes, eye contact that lasted for the blink of an eye but was enough to make his palms sweaty.

He was among smugglers and thieves and murderers _.  _ He didn’t even want to imagine the crimes that had been born in these halls, the number of atrocities whose seeds had been planted here and that had then grown and developed into poisons without antidotes, had inflicted harm that took down entire people.

Hunk walked across the marketplace that sprawled out over the base area of the mountain like a city. There bars and taverns and inns tucked into the far back of the mountain among tents and homes. Hunk could barely contain his marvel at the construction, the soft glow that bounced of the walls.

It was beautiful, breathtakingly stunning. But it was an illusion, a lie, to divert his attention from what really mattered.

Hunk made his way through the moving crowd, hyper-aware of all of his belongings. Keith’s advice rang in his ears, like a mantra that kept him grounded.

_ “Don’t hold onto your belongings. Not to your bayard, not to the communicator, not the to explosives. You think you’ll be keeping them safe when in reality you’re only telling thieves where to reach when they try to rob you.”  _ Keith had spoken with an unsettling calmness, almost like he was talking about the weather or what he had for dinner last night.

Hunk didn’t ask where he had gotten the advice. It was one of the questions everyone had but no one was stupid enough to actually ask. Like how Keith had managed to get enough money to feed himself for an entire year when he had lived alone. Or what Shiro was thinking, whenever he absentmindedly stared off into the distance, thinking no one was looking at him.

Hunk stopped walking when a golden glint caught his eye. There, tucked between two little huts that seemed to lean against each other like two old drunks stumbling home. Hunk had instinctively started approaching it when Lance’s voice rang through his comms.

_ “I’ve entered the mountain. I’ll be at the bar in about 20 minutes.” _  His voice already sounded different, deeper and haunted. Hunk stopped in his tracks when his actual purpose of being here hit him. Torn between duty and curiosity he remained frozen at his spot, eyes set to the glint, the crowd pushing past him like waves of the ocean.

Then he caught sight of what the glint actually was and the decision was made for him. Long black hair braided all the way down to hips covered in stained linen, brown skin, black tattoos that mirrored his own curling their way up a forearm.

_ An islander _ . He corrected himself when he saw the golden chain around her neck and her wrists.

_ A slave. _

 

* * *

__

Keith replayed his conversation with Lance over and over in his mind. It had gone wrong, so utterly and terribly wrong. Even though he had actually thought about what he had wanted to say, for once, he had fucked it up. Like he always did.

__

How foolish of him it was to think he would be capable of anything other than inflicting pain.

__

He had looked at Lance and the only thing he had seen was a replay of Sorans. A cruel memory that took over his sight, his hearing and the rest of his senses like they were its birthright. Shiro pierced by a bullet that had Keith’s name written on it, that had its aim in Keith’s chest. Only this time, there was no Lance that could swoop in and perform the impossible feat of getting both of them back into safety.

__

Because it wasn’t Shiro in his arms but  _ Lance. _

__

Lance whose eyes made the ocean and the sky itself lose their colour in jealousy. Blue eyes that changed in brightness like the light of day and were as powerful as the tides, going in and out, drawing him in and pushing him away. To imagine those eyes lifelessly staring up at him, to imagine such a light extinguished, just because he hadn’t spoken up.

__

Keith wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

__

But when he had opened his mouth to speak, his words had betrayed him, came twisted and wrong. What poured out was fear dressing up as anger and actually succeeding. He gave Lance the only thing he knew how to give ─ undeserved suffering.

__

_ You don’t think I can do this, do you? _

__

Keith hadn’t known what to answer. He spoke the language of anger not the one of doubt. Of course, he thought Lance could pull it off.  But Keith had been out of his depth, plunged into unknown territory and panic had seized his throat with an iron fist. So he had turned to the familiar, turned to the habit built over so many years it was as immovable as a mountain, and answered with pain.

__

_ Of course, I think you can do this,  _ he had thought _. _  Lance could do anything. Lance was powerful enough to make the world stop spinning and make rivers flow uphill. He looked at dictionaries, crossed out impossible and replaced it with done. And yet, Keith had the audacity to doubt him.

__

It had been the same thing with Shiro, had been the same thing for years. Keith hurled insult after insult, made mess after mess. Always expecting him to see him for what he really was ─ a bringer of pain. Someone who took and took and took but had never learned how to give.

__

Lance didn’t deserve this. Shiro didn’t deserve this. And yet, Keith forced them to endure it anyway.

__

He sighed and adjusted the red scarf he had pulled over the lower half of his face. It wasn’t really needed, there wasn’t anyone to recognise his face anyway. But it calmed his frazzled nerves. It was a barrier between him and the rest of the mountain, his last line of defense against prying eyes. He fought the reflex of making himself small and pulled his shoulders away from his ears.

__

_ “I’ve entered the mountain. I’ll be at the bar in about 20 minutes.” _  Lance’s voice tore him from his thoughts and rooted his mind in the present. He sounded like someone who knew no insecurity, who scoffed at the idea of limitations. Keith wanted to stuff his ears when the sound of it travelled down into the marrow of his bones and turned them soft like butter.

__

Keith started approaching the bar where Lance would meet this Axe person. It was unfittingly lavish for a place like this. The exterior built out of black marble traced by white veins. The entire construction seemed uncharacteristically high, standing proudly like a queen amidst her bowing subjects. Keith walked through the open door and entered the bar, illuminated by giant, sparkling chandeliers and the soft golden glow that fell through the almost ridiculous amount of windows.

__

This place was an act built to be seen, a direct contrast to its very purpose. Keith frowned at the lack of corners in the room ─ there were no closed booths either, the entire room was so open it unsettled him ─ when he began circling it, looking for a table. He settled for the booth farthest away from the entrance and focused on the row of doors that led to the back of the establishment.

It seemed like no one had noticed his entrance nor was anyone paying attention to him. He was suddenly grateful that Coran had forced all of them to dress up for the occasion. While the ongoings in the bar were far from legal, nothing in its appearance suggested any form of crime. All of the guests fit right in with the luxurious armchairs clad in purple velvet and the expensive artworks that decorated the walls, and, thanks to Coran’s insisting, Keith did too.

Keith flagged one of the waiters, covered in jewellery from head to toe and sparkling whenever he stepped into the light. He brought Keith a beer, he had no intention of drinking.

“ _ I’m in position. Lance, where are you?” _  Keith whispered without taking his eyes off the moving crowd of sparkling patrons.

“ _ I’ll be there in two minutes.”  _ Keith blinked at the lack of playfulness in his voice. He had unknowingly expected teasing or at least the soft undertone of mischief Lance normally carried in his voice and was now left reeling after that expectation had gone unfulfilled.

“ _ Hunk, do you copy?”  _ No answer. Keith frowned and asked again, numerous times, but the result remained the same.

Keith fiddled with the sleeve of his purple suit, eyes darting towards the door each time he heard footsteps in the hallway, only to fall back down to his sleeve when the person who entered wasn’t Lance or Hunk. Keith’s heart rate picked up with each passing second.

Lance would arrive any minute now and Hunk was nowhere to be found.

Keith was on his own, like he always was, but this time was different. This time the back he was watching wasn’t his own, the person who would pay for his failure wasn’t himself. He balled his hands into fists and focused on his breathing. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to worrying about someone so much that calmness evaded him.

The Lance that walked through the door would laugh at his worry and brush it off like a pesky fly.

Keith couldn’t keep himself from inhaling sharply and staring. Lance smiled, a sly arrogant lift of the corners of his mouth as if he heard him. Keith couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. It was Lance but at the same time, it was… not.

If the Lance he saw during fights, the one with a tongue of liquid silver, was a dagger; this one was a sword, beautifully crafted, its blade sharp and dangerous. Keith’s eyes wandered over his slicked-back hair and his broad back. Lance’s was otherworldly, unsettling, Bigger than life and bigger than death too. He grabbed people’s attention like a silk-clad iron fist, like strength coated in luxury, and held onto it effortlessly.

Not that he had to, even Keith found himself unable to look away.

Lande fit in seamlessly at the bar. He was the missing piece of a painting, took it from being mere art and turned it into a masterpiece. Keith’s eyes retraced the sharp angles of his suit, a navy blue promising unimaginable wealth. But it was the smirk, lined with cold arrogance and embellished with a hint of boredness, that sold his act, gave it the air of authenticity that made even Keith fall for it.

Lance caught his eyes for a moment. They were darker than they usually were, a shock of midnight blue, and Lance’s smirk widened.

_ The show had begun. _

 

* * *

“You don’t think we can pull this off, do you?” Shiro asked her and Pidge didn’t know what to say. The feeling, while not foreign to her, was unusual. Questions were her thing, answers always came almost natural to her. That made it even more jarring when they didn’t.

“If anyone of us can do this, then it’s him.” Not the right answer ─ Was there even a right answer? ─ but close enough. Her eyes stayed on the screen, lines upon lines of text ran by, prisoner logs, transactions made here in the mountain and elsewhere, artefacts that were sold here that have been marked as lost to the general public. It was all right there. Impressive, even she had to admit that.

“That still doesn’t mean this will work.” Yes, of course, it didn’t. She knew that herself. That fact alone had kept her up nights on end, furiously pouring over the layout of the mountain, eyes scanning the walls, all the exits, tracing and retracing their exit routes, again and again. She could draw them from memory, draw them in darkness and on the brink of death. But still, there was no way to guarantee it would be enough.

Because their luck didn’t rely on numbers. They could calculate a risk, do the math a hundred, a thousand or even a million times, it wouldn’t be enough. Their numbers would be meaningless, a mere estimate that could be proven wrong at any given moment.

“It has to,” she answered. Because maybe if she said it often enough it would end up being the truth.

They spent a few moments in silence, both focused on what they were reading. Pidge was close to pulling out her own hair when she heard Lance’s voice crackling through the communicator.  _ “I’ve entered the mountain. I’ll be at the bar in about 20 minutes.” _

Her heartbeat surged and a wish popped up in her chest like a lit match. The flame grew, as the urge to beg Lance not to do this did as well. But she didn’t say anything, she had agreed to let him do this and that she would do.

“How long did Coran say that the poison will work?” Shiro asked, wary gaze on the two guards that to anyone else would seem like they were merely sleeping. His uneasiness was slowly starting to affect her like some sort of disease. She ignored the anxious thrumming in her bones that was slowing down her thoughts.

“Long enough for us to get what we need and leave.” Her typing sped up and the furrow between her brows deepened. Silence settled around them as she worked and Shiro kept an eye on the door.

“What are you looking for?” Shiro asked, probably to fill the silence, something Pidge was grateful for.

“Anything, really.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. For a moment it felt like she could just give in to her frustration, accept that she wouldn’t find anything and abandon this. She sure as hell wanted to. But then she remembered Lance, Keith and Hunk, down in the mountain beneath her feet and she abruptly pulled back her shoulders and started typing with new vigour. They were counting on her and she wouldn’t let them down now.

“The mountain has one of the biggest databases in the country, now that the one of the crown is a thing of the past. So if there’s anything on Matt, my dad or even just your mission it should be here.” She forced her voice neutral.

It was easier on some days but today it wasn’t. Today it felt like everything she had kept up under wraps ─ fear, sadness, rage, desperation and God knew what else ─ had risen to the surface to taunt her, to sit down on her shoulders like additional weights she had to carry, to slow her mind until they were the only things that mattered.

“You haven’t lost them, you know. There still out there.” Reassurance spoken just for the sake of it. Well-intended but nothing more than an empty promise until proven otherwise. She had the urge to believe him. It tore and snarled at her mind for denying it. But she didn’t, she couldn’t. Not when she wanted to keep the last remaining shreds of her sanity. She couldn’t hold onto hope, not with odds like these.

And yet, sometimes, she did. Stared into the darkness of her room long enough that everything seemed plausible and began to hope again, just for a minute. Began to hope, not just for herself, but for Matt, her dad and her mum.

“Sometimes it feels like I did, like I’ll never find him or my dad.” Because even hope was no match for the sadness she carried with her. She blinked a few times to get rid of the shine in her eyes.

“I shouldn’t have let him go. It was his decision but I let him go that makes it partially my responsibility, doesn’t it?” Her voice broke but she still didn’t cry. She thought of the determination and the enthusiasm that had burned in Matt’s eyes when he told her about the mission and her heart grew heavier.

Whoever said absence made the heart grow fonder was a liar. It made the heart grow battered and bruised, made its seams strain with pain and made it hesitant to let anyone in. There was no good to be found in absence and anyone who wouldn’t admit that didn’t have the strength to look the truth in the eye.

“They’re out there and you’ll find him.” Another reassurance. Same purpose, different wording. Pidge merely nodded and turned back to the screens. She pulled up the notes on different screens so that both of them were able to read simultaneously.

Pidge made a low pitched sound at the back of her throat and Shiro looked up. “Did you find anything?”

“Not sure if it’ll be of use. Old prisoner logs of a place called Spherok. Does that ring any bells?” Shiro remained silent for a moment, thinking. “It sounds vaguely familiar. What does the file say?”

“Spherok, high-security prison of the Galran crown.” Shiro scrolled down in his file and gasped when he reached the bottom of it.

“Pidge, take a look at this.”

She looked at the screen and made a strangled sound when she read the contents of the files. This couldn’t be.

_ Prisoner: #LM29b4 Matthew Holt; Solitary confinement _

* * *

Hunk followed the slave for what seemed like an eternity, down hidden paths that were tucked between little huts, further and further away from the actual marketplace. His pursuit continued, as the crowd around them thinned. He waited until they were close to the mountain walls and almost completely alone to catch up to her completely.

He caught her wrist and was immediately met with the back of a hand in his face. He let go if her wrist as if it burned her

“Wait! Please! I come in peace,” he yelled, holding his pulsing cheek, when she raised her hand again. Damn, that had hurt.

“What do you want?” She growled, face distorted in rage hand still raised in warning. Hunk straightened his posture and lifted both of his hands to show that he meant no harm.

“I… I─” he stammered. What  _ did  _ he want? What was he even doing here? His eyes fell on the tattoo on her biceps, the style all too familiar to him. He caught himself and forced his voice calm.

“Where are you from?” he asked, eyes not leaving her tattoo.

“Why does that matter?” Her eyes narrowed and her gaze hardened.

“Are you an islander?” Hunk asked again, growing desperate.

“I’m not going to tell you anything.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the shackles on her wrists glinting.

“Please,” Hunk begged and rolled up his right sleeve when she didn’t cave. It revealed his skin coated in black ink similar to the one on his arm. She gasped, eyes bulging and just stared at him.

“Who are you?” She asked, her question nothing more than an exhale. She came closer and shot him a questioning glance when she reached for his forearm. He nodded and her hands gripped his forearm. Even though all he had seen from her had been roughness, her grip was surprisingly gentle as she turned his arm in her grip.

“My name is Hunk. I’m from the Sanorian Islands.” It didn’t seem like she heard him. Her entire attention had been taken up by his tattoos. Her calloused fingers traced the lines and intricate patterns. Lines of  _ Enata,  _ stylised drawings of lizards.

_ Community, brothers in arms, healing and warding off all illness and harm _ .

His mother had chosen them for him to bear them with pride and he did. No, they were a monument built for a eternity on his skin, proof that there had been brighter times in his past.

“How did you end up here?” Hunk asked when she looked up at him, all traces of her earlier hostility gone.

“Long story,” she said, releasing his arm and taking a few steps back. Hunk had a feeling that that would be all he would get out of her for now, so he swallowed the rest of the question that was burning on his tongue and waited for her to speak. Her eyes fell down to his exposed forearm.

“You were a doctor?” She frowned at him in confusion and Hunk almost smiled a bit. He got that a lot.

“More of an apprentice if anything. My aunt was one though and taught me a lot of what I know now.” The hints of his smile grew in something bigger, pulled by the strings of memory. He had been driven by the curiosity of a child and pestered her until she taught him everything.

“Do you… Would you─” She mumbled a few curses under her breath, “I need your help.” She huffed out a puff of air, clearly pained by having to admit to that.

Hunk raised his eyebrows. “What can I do?”

“One of the other islanders is sick. He has just received his tattoos before…” Her voice broke but she quickly caught herself, “We think he’s getting an infection but we don’t have the resources to help him.”

She pushed a few strands out of her face and held his gaze. Even behind her wall of determination, Hunk could see the exhaustion threatening to consume her. Respect rose in his chest and quickly grew.

He nodded. “I’m not sure  how much I can help but I’ll try.” She shot him a thankful smile.

“I’ll bring you to him.”

She led him through a maze of tight, low hallways, dimly illuminated by the light veins on the walls. Hunk tried to remember the way he had come and actually succeeded. His mind drew up a map of hallways and turns they had taken and held onto it like his life depended on it.

“There are dozens of us Islanders in here, the rest of us managed to escape before they got to them,” she explained as they entered what seemed like a cave. It was a round room, filled to the brim with light veins that now came close to sunlight. There were mats rolled up and leaned against the wall, together with what few belongings they were allowed to keep. It was incredibly sparse. All of the remaining space, which wasn’t that much to be completely honest, was taken up by misery. It felt like a physical weight on his shoulders.

“He’s back there.” She led him to a small group of elders gathered around a sleeping boy.

“Who is he?” A man asked. His face didn’t seem much older than Hunk or Shay’s but the look in his eyes made him seem like he was decades older. He swung his braid, a part of a much more intricate pattern of braids on his scalp, over his shoulder, squared his posture and crossed his arms. The black ink on his thighs shifted over his obvious muscle mass and Hunk swallowed when he met his eyes.

“My name is Hunk, I’m here to look at him, I suppose.” Hunk nodded in the direction of the unconscious body.

The man ignored him. “Why did you bring him here? Do you want to kill us all?” He glared at the other slave, as his furious whisper rose to an almost yell, bouncing off the walls of the cave.

“Rax─” she began but he just talked right over her.

“Do you know what kind of risk you put us in, Shay? What tells you that he isn’t a spy sent to get rid of us for good?” He tried to grip her shoulders but she shook him off.

Hunk flinched when Shay suddenly gripped his exposed forearm and lifted it so that Rax could see the ink that marked Hunk as an Islander.

“ _ Enata  _ and a Lizard, one of us and a healer,” she explained. She dropped Hunk’s wrist and walked right past Rax who was stunned speechless. Hunk met his eyes.

“I come in peace. My aunt was a doctor versed in both our medicine and that of the mainland.” Hunk forced his entire demeanour calm. Advice Lance had given him back in what now seemed another lifetime ran through his mind.  _ Open posture, keep your hands lowered but visible, make eye contact but don’t smile. _  Back then, he had wondered why Lance thought it was important that he knew this but now he could kiss him.

“I won’t hurt him, I promise,” Hunk put as much sincerity behind those words as he could and, lo and behold, it worked. Rax took a step by side and let him approach the sick person.

Hunk knelt down next to the unconscious body and turned to one of the elders who had been quietly observing their entire exchange. “How long has he been unconscious?”

“Hours.” A woman merely said, staring at the boy like she was already mourning. Determination rose in Hunk’s chest when he saw it. She wouldn’t have to mourn, not if he could help it.

Hunk checked for his pulse and put his hand on his forehead. “He’s got an infection a pretty bad one too,” he turned to Rax, “Bring me some water.”

“I’m not leaving you with them.” Rax planted his feet and glared down at Hunk.

“Rax,  _ go! _ ” Shay glared him down for a moment, then two, then Rax lost their staring duell and got up to fetch some water.

Hunk began to search his bags for salt, bandages and whatever else might be in there.

“Do you think you can help him?” Shay met his eyes, desperation and fear darkened their brown until they almost seemed black. The sight was too painful to watch. Hunk lowered his eyes and went back to arranging his utensils.

“I’ll have to.”   
  


* * *

 

Lance was standing in the long hallway that led to the bar, dressed to the nines and feeling it too. It was just like performing again. The attention, the audience, the high stakes, they melted together in his veins and had them thrumming with raw energy. His persona moulded itself into his skin, soaked in like water and became a part of him.

 

He pulled his spine straight, shoulders back, chin up.  _ This _  Lance didn’t have to hide. The process had sunken into his bones, thought wasn’t needed anymore. His stance widened, his smile sharpened. The air around him changed until it was rich with confidence that had been faked long enough that it now took on shapes of actual fact.

 

For a moment he could pretend that this was like it used to. See Rosianna’s eyes in his mind and whisper their usual motto.

“Razzle dazzle time,” he whispered, a soft sad smile on his lips. Then that moment was over. His persona clicked into place and  _ Regular Lance  _ was a thing of the past, mere history in face of a brighter present.

 

He entered the bar and was greeted with luxury, lavish decadence that knew no bounds. This was no place for your average criminal, these were the big guys. Handlers and navigators, the masterminds behind some of the biggest atrocities known to mankind. Those who could slit someone’s throat in front of your eyes and still walk off without a trace of blood on their hands.

 

Expensive velvet, sparkling champagne and glittering jewellery that had without a doubt not been paid for vied for his attention but he paid them no mind. Not when  _ he  _ was the actual attraction, the act no one had paid for but everyone would beg for an encore. His mind was clouded with arrogance, filled by what he had to project.

 

He heard Keith’s sharp inhale through his comms, a thin translucent foil glued to his neck and a matching earring, and his grin widened. It was working.

Lance walked over to the bar and ordered a drink, an intricate monstrosity of a cocktail, he had no intention of even touching. He shot the bartender a smile, coated thickly in false interest but that would ensure that he was to be remembered when someone were to come to ask.

 

He tapped a slow rhythm on the counter and began waiting. They had set up a meeting with Axe under the pretense to buy some of his obviously fake paintings, to be the lying patron to a lying salesperson. They had said that someone would come to get it, so Lance was here, wasting his time making heads turn and being seen.

 

His cocktail got placed in front of him and he murmured a soft thank you. He played with the metal straw, while his eyes wandered through the room in a show of blasé arrogance.

 

His eyes remained on Keith for just a tad bit too long, short enough that no one would notice but long enough to irk Lance. Keith didn’t hold as much power over  _ this  _ person as he did on  _ Regular Lance. _  Still, he was drawn to him like a moth was drawn to a flame. His eyes wandered over the way his suit hugged the broad line of his shoulders and how his eyes burned even more intensely, now that half of his face was covered.

 

Keith was a picture drawn in bold lines, a picture drawn without hesitation. Each of his lines well-placed, so utterly  _ there, _  like there was nowhere else where they could be. Each line composed in such chaotic intention that Lance was left in awe like an art critic seeing the starry night for the first time.

 

Lance forced himself to hold onto his persona, his grip so tight that he felt his knuckles turn white and his fingers turn numb. He couldn’t allow himself to forget who he was and who exactly he wasn’t. This particular slip-up might have gone unnoticed but the next one wouldn’t.

 

Lance straightened back up again and shot the bartender a sly smile she answered with one of her own, her unnaturally golden eyes twinkling with hidden mysteries. He imagined a soft click and everything was back in place. Every movement back to their calculated accuracy and  _ Regular Lance  _ shoved back into the depths of his chest.

 

A tall figure, broad as tree and skin as dark as one approached him. “They’re waiting for you.” Lance shot him a dazzling smile and nodded. He felt the grip of his persona tighten around him like corset pulled into place and followed him out of the bar and into the back part of the establishment.

 

Not looking at Keith was harder than he thought it would be.

 

He was led through a plethora of hallways each one more luxurious than the last. The thick carpet swallowed his steps, as he tried to remember the exact way he had come from. He soon lost track of it, after he began suspecting that the guard was taking intentional detours to confuse him and just went on to hope that everything would go well if he had to book it later.

 

They arrived at a door, seemingly cast out of pure gold and decorated with tiny flowers carved out of precious stones. It was luxury driven into excess, a monument of decadence.

But still, it didn’t even come close to Axe themselves.

 

Axe…  _ sparkled _ . There was no other way to describe them. Instead of the tight kinks and curls, Lance had expected, they wore long black braids, adorned by colourful pearls that shimmered whenever they moved their head. Their black eyes, one seeing, the other robbed of its sight by a cut that had long since healed, met Lance’s and he felt his grip on his persona weaken.

 

He masked his initial shock with scrutiny that was just as harsh as the one of his opponent and didn’t react when Axe lifted their hand and shooed the guard away. The motion arrogant and natural, formed by a life born into authority.

 

The door clicked shut behind him.

 

“What can I offer you?” Axe smooth voice carried effortlessly. The words were spoken slowly with a kind of self-assuredness that spoke of secrets that were evident to them but hidden to everyone else.

“I’m not here to buy one of your artworks.” Lance pulled on his own cloak of arrogance, turned up its collar and squared his shoulders.

“Who said anything about artworks?”Axe didn’t react to his condescending scoff, their smile just widened. Indeed, the room was devoid of any artwork.

They seized each other up, like two gladiators in a fighting pit, both vying for the upper hand and soon realising that it was  _ just  _ out of reach.

Lance purposely didn’t answer their question. _  Want to get something out of a person? Present them with silence and they will wish to fill it. _  His father's advice, always there when he needed it. He sharpened his smirk, pulled his cloak tighter and  _ there. _

They caved. “Fine, I’ll play along. Why are you here?”

Being asked was good. Being the one to answer meant that he controlled the information, that he was the one calling the shots.

“As if you don’t already know the answer. You obviously prepared for this. There are no artworks in sight, you didn’t come here to sell anything.”

Time was the thing he needed so that was what he created. Never give in too early that makes you seem an easy target, makes you seem soft and vulnerable. Never drag on too long that makes you boring. Balance was key and balance was what he had.

After all, you couldn’t spell  _ balance  _ without spelling  _ Lance  _ too _. _

“I may or may not be already aware of the reason why you’re here.” Axe cocked their head, the light bouncing off the gems woven into their braids. They adjusted the white fur stole they had thrown over their right shoulder and came a step closer.

“Why play games then?” Lance raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react to their movement. If they were trying to intimidate him he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting them know that it was working.

“They amuse me. Life has gotten terribly boring around here.” Lance saw the same attitude he had channelled earlier, thrown right back at him. But this time it was better, genuine in a way he would never achieve.

_ You don’t have to do this. _

His grip on his persona faltered. For the fraction of a second, there was a crack, an opening, and this thought slipped right through. Keith’s voice rang in his head, reverberated in his bones and the parasite of doubt, planted earlier, began to fester.

“I can imagine, selling artworks day in and day out, pretending to be someone you aren’t day in and day out. It must be tiring after while.” His next words were a mistake, sounded more Lance, than the Persona. But he caught himself ─  _ thank God ─  _ closed the gap and squashed the thought like a bug.

“You tell me.” Axe, of course, aware of his slip up, had seen their chance and seized it too. He was backed into a corner, back to the wall, forced to follow their lead. Lance remained silent. But this time it was different. It wasn’t an intentional move. There nothing calculated about the void in his brain.

Axe sighed, hints of annoyance glinting in their eyes.“Fine so I’ll ask again, why are you here?”

This question, Lance knew how to answer. “I’m here for information”

“Information comes at a price” What didn’t nowadays?

“I can pay you if that’s what you want?” Lance regained a bit of his persona and with it, the boldness returned. The words were spoken without hesitation, in a voice strong and steady.

Axe raised an eyebrow, intrigued even if they didn’t want to. Lance reached inside his bag and pulled out a necklace Allura had given him earlier. It was a delicate piece of jewellery crafted out fine chains of gold and adorned with dozens of sapphires.

“I didn’t think you would be that bold.” Axe’s voice was so quiet it was unsettling

“What do you me─?” Cold metal on his forehead.

They had conjured a gun seemingly out of thin air and aimed at Lance’s head. The rest of Lance’s words got stuck in his throat, blocking the way for air to come in. Sweat shot up on his forehead and a tremble, so fierce that the denial of its existence was pointless, gripped him.

“What are you doing?” His voice was nothing more than a shaky exhale.

“Did you really think you could show me Altean jewellery and I wouldn’t know?!” Axe’s voice rose, abandoning unsettling composure to make room for piercing anger, for rage in the making.

“I had three different versions of that necklace  _stolen_  for me. Of course, I would recognise it.” They pushed the gun barrel harder into his forehead. Lance flinched, his shoulders coming up all the way up to his ears.

“Who sent you?” An order, not a question.

“I came alone.”

“Don’t lie to me.  _ Who  _ sent you?” Lance remained silent for a moment, fervently searching his mind for a lie, but in vain. His head was swept empty and the truth remained. Axe unlocked the gun and Lance caved.

“I’m with the Altean crown.”

Axe got lost in thought, the running processes in their mind slowing their words. “So the Princess isn’t dead after all. Interesting…” Lance swallowed.

“Will you help us?” Lance did his best to meet Axe’s eye, pointedly not staring at the gun, loaded and aimed to his head.

“What do you want?”  The tone of business.

“Information about the Blade of Marmora.” Lance reached for his Persona or even just a confident delivery but his skills failed him. The words came out shaky and forced.

“No. Absolutely not.” Axe snapped, their tone final.

“It’s for the  _ crown _ .” Lance reached for any slips of thoughts he could find in his mind even if those were the flimsy reason the Princess had given them.

“What do I owe the crown?” Lance didn’t answer, couldn’t really, instead his eyes searched the room in a fevered frenzy, looking for something,  _ anything,  _ that could help him. His eyes wandered over Axe themselves. He took in the soft facial features that, if it weren’t for Axe’s actual facial expression, still reminded him of those of a child.

His eyes wandered further over luxury and excess, diamonds and leathers, paintings and food that would go untouched while there were young criminals, their bellies bloated with hunger, that would pass another night starving right outside of the bar.

And then, it clicked.

The argument in his mind formed, its delivery composed itself inside his bones like a symphony coming together for the first time. His persona came back to him and his posture re-established itself like it had never been gone in the first place.

“The ground beneath your feet.” His delivery worthy of a stage.“Don’t you think the crown would have abolished this place by now if they weren’t dead set on tolerating it?” Lance raised his chin and looked Axe dead in the eye.

“ _ Had been _ . The crown is no longer.” Their brows furrowed, sparks of annoyance growing into wildfires of full-blown anger.

“We have a crowned successor.”

“There is no Altean crown anymore. Our foolish king and queen trusted Emperor Zarkon and see what they got out of it. He gave them a red necklace to wear forever.” Lance flinched internally on the Princess’ behalf but his outside was smiling because Axe’s rage was leading them exactly where he wanted them.

“I’m not getting caught up in that. Not after the Royals have barricaded themselves in Capital like a bunch of scared sheep. Just like their rulers did during their time.” And this was the opening he had waited for. The pieces in his mind fell into place, his bones were vibrating with the force of the symphony rushing through them and when he opened his mouth the words formed themselves,

“Like you’re much better. Down here in your little hole in the ground, covered in silk and glittering stones. Refusing to even look at the outside world.” Lance coated his voice in disgust and held their gaze when they looked at him.

“What are the stakes in this? I don’t have anything to lose.” Pride. The only thing missing now was the fall.

But not for long.

“Do you now? You’re sitting in a hole in the ground under a mountain. Don’t you know how ridiculously easy it would be to just cut you off.”  His lips curled up in a grin. The smile of a fighter ready give the killing blow.

“You can’t” Axe refused sounded frightened but it was an effort in vain. They didn’t lower the gun, but their hand was shaking, their finger miles away from pulling the trigger.

“Can’t I really? You said it yourself, I didn’t come alone.” His grin widened as the realisation of Axe’s situation dawned on them.

“Pull that trigger and you’ll be a sitting duck. A scared little child left to fend for themselves. How long until they place the blame on you?” Not long he guessed. It was obvious that Axe called the shots inside of the mountain, obvious that their wealth hadn’t been acquired by asking nicely. There would be at least a dozen people who would watch their downfall like a cat who had finally gotten the milk.

“You’re a creature of delicacy, the mastermind behind a bloodshed, not the butcher ending the life. You’ll be no match for what will hit you.” Axe, built light as a bird with thin arms and childlike facial features, wouldn’t even last a week without their influence to protect them.

They would be broken in half.

Axe hesitated and Lance raised an eyebrow. The  _ I dare you _ , unspoken but not unheard. Axe swallowed and then lowered their gun.

Lance smiled and turned to walk towards the door, knowing that first battle had been fought and won.

“You have until tomorrow to find something useful to me,” He turned back to look at Axe who was still realising the gravity of the situation. He met their eye and his smile widened.

“Sleep tight.”

 

* * *

His heart was still pounding against his ribcage when Keith arrived at the tavern they had agreed to meet at. It was a small shady inn, crammed into a tiny corner at the other end of the mountain, both in terms of distance and in terms of wealth as far away from the bar as possible. The creaking of the floorboards soon faded into the background as he kept up his restless pacing.

“Come on Lance. Walk through that door.” He muttered under his breath, over and over, like his voice carried actual magic and the words were a spell. Every other second his eyes would jump to the door but the creaking he heard was just the cleaner, making his rounds and so the pacing would continue.

The fact that he was alone didn’t make it any better. Pidge and Shiro had sounded off saying that they were now on their way and that he should stop worrying about them. Pah, like that was even a possibility! He would watch them walk right through that door, have them verbally confirm that they’re alright and  _ then  _ he would think about it.

He hadn’t heard from Lance and Hunk in a while. Neither of them had sounded off and Keith felt like wringing their necks. He fisted his hair in both hands and pulled. This was exactly why he prefered working alone. No one but him meant no one else to worry about. He forced his breathing to calm but didn’t try to tackle his pacing, he knew a lost cause when he saw it.

The floorboards in front of the door creaked again and his head shot up. The door swung open and Shiro and Pidge came in, calm, unharmed. Keith felt as if someone had lifted the entire mountain off his chest. 

“You ok?” His voice, while shakier than he liked, was still steady enough and didn’t betray any of the turmoil going on his head, nor the loudest thought in his mind.  _ They’re here, they’re unharmed, everything’s okay. _

Shiro nodded.

“We got the data we need. I’ll start looking into it later to see if there’s anything useful in it.. Any word from Lance or Hunk?” Pidge asked, walking over the ratty couch that smelled like it had every liquor imaginable dumped on it at least once. She started coughing like she was about to die, as a huge cloud of dust rose when Shiro fell onto it like a sack of potatoes.

“Of all the things trying to kill us, I hadn’t thought of the furniture,” she deadpanned, wiping the beginnings of tears out of her eyes, and Shiro, that apparently still had the humour of a five-year-old, tried in vain to contain his laughter. They exchanged a smile like a ray of sunshine amidst a terrible storm. Keith would have loved be part of their exchange but he couldn’t take his eyes off the door.

Shiro’s laughter died down and as if on cue the doors swung open to reveal Lance, devastatingly beautiful and shaken to the bone. He closed the door behind him and opened himself up for Keith’s questions.

“Are you okay? How did it go?” There was no hiding of the worry behind his words this time. He had heard everything, knew that he Lance was meeting Axe again and that there were threats that have been made. But Lance’s face told him there was something he had missed, something that had happened he didn’t know of.

Lance flinched and the glossed-over look in his eyes cleared as if he was just now realising where he actually was. “It… it went well. I’m meeting up with them tomorrow so that they can give me the information.”

Lance carded through his hair, no trace left of his former confidence. Now he just seemed tired. Keith looked over to Pidge and saw that she had narrowed her eyes at him. “But that’s not everything is it?” She leaned forward on the couch, brows furrowed. Her and Shiro hadn’t heard anything of had gone down between Lance and Axe, the signal had cut out at the most inconvenient moment.

Lance sighed. “No.” For a moment it sounded like he was going to add to that but then he sunk down on one of the wobbly chairs behind him. His entire body crumbled like a wilting flower and Keith felt the urge to reach out and put his hand on his shoulder, offer the kind of comfort he didn’t know the words for. But then he remembered the last look Lance had given him, filled to the brim with pain that  _ Keith  _ had brought him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. No, he would only make it worse.

“What happened Lance?” Keith didn’t turn to look at Shiro, instead, he kept his eyes on Lance who now started squirming.

“I… I talked to them and they didn’t want to help me at first. Then I pulled out the necklace to show that I could pay and then─” He trailed off, eyes set to the ground, the rest of his words mumbled and incomprehensible.

“ _ Lance, what happened?” _  Pidge asked sharply as she stood up and took multiple steps to cross the room.

“They pulled a gun on me.”

“ _ They did what?!” _ Keith yelled, his voice rising like thunder and anger spilling at the corners of his mouth. And he wasn’t the only one, Pidge and Shiro wore echoes of his outrage in their face.

“But it went okay! I bluffed really hard and they caved.” Lance hastily explained raising his hands as if he were talking to a wild animal, and in some way he was. There was little to nothing that was keeping him from finding that Axe right now and ripping them to shreds.

“That doesn’t really make it better, Lance.” Shiro despite his anger remained almost unnervingly calm, while both Keith and Pidge looked like they were about to murder Axe.

“You’re not going back there tomorrow─” Pidge all but yelled, her voice fueled equal parts by anger and by worry and Keith felt the same sentiment resonating in his chest. He would tie Lance up himself if he had to.

“That’s not your call to make. I gave them my word that I would be there tomorrow and I will. We need that information and if I have to talk to Axe to get it then I will.” Exhaustion faded from his face and anger took its place. 

“We will not carry your corpse out of here Lance,” Pidge said.

“ _ You won’t goddamn have to!” _ His voice boomed through the room so loud that even the walls seemed to tremble, “Stop saying that! I can do this, I  _ will  _ do this! If you want me to or not.” He pinned every one of them with a glare. Keith wanted to scream, wanted to yell at him that he couldn’t do that, that Keith wouldn’t let him do that. 

But words failed him once more.

He just stood there frozen when Lance vanished into one of the bedrooms and let door behind him bang shut.

And he wasn’t the only one. Pidge only stared at the door, wide-eyed, argument still forming in her throat. Shiro walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll talk to him.” For a moment it looked like she was about to protest. For a moment it felt like  _ he  _ was about to protest. But then the tension bled out of her shoulders and she sighed. 

“Fine.” She nodded and then turned to pick up her laptop from the coffee table she had dumped it on earlier. She turned towards Keith. “You’re coming?” Keith nodded, there was enough damage done already, so he followed her into one of the other bedrooms.

It was a twin bedroom, filled to the brim with furniture as it was with dust and like the rest of the tavern, it looked like it was one wrong breath away from collapsing in on itself like a house of cards. Pidge sat down on the bed and immediately began working, like she always did. She didn’t know the word rest nor would she be willing to be taught if anyone suggested it.

Keith sat down across from her and watched her work for a while, until the mess in his head died down a little. It didn’t die down entirely, there was still a constant pounding of _ where is Hunk? _ hammering in his mind, but it was manageable. 

“What did you find inside the control room?” 

Pidge remained hunched over the laptop her eyes so close to the screen that it couldn’t be healthy. “We found out about Spherok, the prison currently holding my brother captive.”

“That’s amazing!” Keith blurted out but quickly caught himself, “I mean, you finally know where to look for him.” 

Talking to people felt like he was taking his first steps as a child, wobbly, unsure and painfully awkward. But Pidge didn’t care about any of that which made talking to her that much easier. 

“Isn’t it?” She shot him a smile that seemed just as accidental as his outburst. One that was too wide and too bright for a situation like this. But still happened just because it had too. Keith tried to smile back, still wobbly and unsure and painfully awkward, but that didn't matter anymore, now that it was an echo of hers.

Pidge didn’t care about any of his ineptitudes because sometimes it felt like she was the same. Great at barking orders, demanding respect but out of her depth when those two skills didn’t fit anymore.

They sat there for a moment grinning at each other like two fools. But then she looked down on to the laptop screen and her smile melted off her faces like ice cream left out in the sun.

“What is it?” Keith asked, his own smile fading. 

“It’s just…,” she sighed, “Spherok is own of the most secure Galran facilities in the entire empire. No one knows where it is or how it works. There are no recorded outbreaks and no one that has gotten in has ever emerged ali─” Her voice broke. She bit her lip, eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall.

“I don’t know if I can get him.” The words burned their way into his chest and kept on burning when they reached its centre. She looked so incredibly small and Keith wanted to help her. He opened his mouth, clumsy words of comfort already forming in his throat when he hesitated. He had never been good at offering comfort, never been good at try either.

But she made him  _ want  _ to try.

And he did.

“Pidge,” he swallowed and forced himself to keep talking, “if there’s anyone who could manage to find that prison, it’s you. Hell, I’m sure you can hack that thing too.” She smiled at that, a tiny spark that told him he wasn’t failing.

“You will find him and your father. They are out there believing in you, so you should too.”

Keith reciprocated her small smile with one of his own and met her widespread palm with one of his own when she extended it. Their fingers laced together and she squeezed them tight. Pidge muttered a quiet thank you and released his hand. 

She went back to tying and reading the files they had copied out of the mountains database while Keith let his mind wander and pretended he wasn’t trying to listen in to Shiro and Lance’s conversation going on next door. He got lost in thought, caught up dodging those he didn’t want to deal with right now. It took him a while to notice Pidges eyes on him, or rather his arm.

He looked down to his right arm and recoiled when he saw purple splotches like bruising. He reached out to touch them, expecting pain. But only started shaking harder when there wasn’t any. 

“What is that?” His eyes didn’t leave the splotches. He traced them with his finger, again and again, hoping for a pain that would never come. But it remained as it was, no matter how hard Keith wished it to be different.

“Keith… what do you know about your parents?” Pidge asked slowly, almost as if she was expecting him to lash out. But Keith was used to that question so much that the answer came before he even thought about it. 

“My dad died when I was little and I never knew my mom,” He spoke the words as if caught in trance. 

“Could it be…” Pidge fell silent, chewing on her lip. Keith lifted his head, pinning her with his eyes. As if he could pull the words out of her if he just stared hard enough. But he didn’t. 

No matter how often he asked, Pidge refused to answer. She went back to reading the files, any traces of closeness between them gone with so little trace that Keith was sure he imagined it. They didn’t talk after that. She kept on typing and Keith got caught up in his thoughts again, absentmindedly tracing the splotches on his arm.

His eyes had unconsciously wandered to the wall that separated them from Lance and Shiro and when he caught himself and averted his eyes, he felt Pidge burning a hole in his arm with hers.

* * *

 

 

Keeping Malvor alive had been a process. To say the least. Again and again, they had been close to losing his pulse, again and again, they had feared for his life. But in the end, everything went well. Or at least as well as possible. He hadn’t been conscious when they were done applying the salves and bandages but he should be by now. 

 

Hunk and they had parted ways, his eyes lingering on their sparse belongings, their faces gaunt with exhaustion greater than what a few nights of sleep could fix. Those pictures haunted him on his way back to the inn. Each golden slave shackle he saw served as a cruel reminder. He could be one of them. If he hadn’t made it to the Garrison he  _ would _ be one of them, would spend his life in chains without a home to return to.

 

He would have to get them out. There was no other way. He was one of them, they were a people. He wouldn’t live his life in freedom while they lived theirs in chains.

 

He made his way through the crowd, wanting nothing more than to just lay down right then and there and just sleep. But as he walked away from one problem, he walked right into the next problem. As the Islanders faded from his mind, Lance took their place and with him came guilt. 

 

Hunk had essentially abandoned him. Had prioritised his curiosity and someone else over his friend. His insides shrivelled up in disgust. How could he possibly explain himself to Lance or even the rest of their team?

 

He approached the inn they would be staying at for the night. It was a small building tucked away in one of the alcoves farthest away from the marketplace in the centre and stood small and crooked with dirty windows and wood that seemed a breath away from caving. He scrunched up his nose as he came closer. The inn smelled vile, holy crap.

 

The wood creaked beneath his feet as he passed the cleaner and entered the rooms they were staying at. He breathed out in relief when he saw that their salon was empty and he wouldn’t have to face any of them immediately.

 

He was immediately punished for his foolish thoughts. The door to one of the bedchambers swung open and Keith walked out.

 

“Oh, you’re back?” he asked, voice sharp. Hunk immediately began to search him for any injuries but didn’t find any. That worry lifted while another one got heavier.

 

Hunk close his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Keith ─”

 

“It’s not me you’ve got to apologise to.”

 

As if he didn’t know that already. Hunk sighed again rubbed his hand over his face.

 

“Look, there was something I had to take care of, something I can’t talk about yet. But I’ll handle it.” Hunk tried to explain himself but Keith wasn’t having it. Words would fail him if Keith demanded to know more. Keith wouldn’t get it, none of them really would.

 

“ _ Please.”  _

 

“Fine,” Keith relented. He didn’t sound satisfied with this answer, not at all, but this was all he would get for now, so he would have to live with it. “Take care of it. Make sure it doesn’t kill us all.”

 

He threw something at Hunk who caught it before he knew what it actually was. Hunk frowned at the communicator in his hand, it was the Altean one Coran had given them earlier to contact the ship once they were all at the inn. 

 

“The Princess wanted to talk to you.” Keith fell into one of the couches, coated in what had to be dust that was decades old, and stared at the wall, already miles away with his mind.

 

Dread coated his skin as he stared down at the communicator in his hand. The Princess wouldn’t relent as easily as Keith did. Hunk nodded at Keith and left the salon for more privacy. He sat down on the bed and activated the communicator. The Princess was already waiting for him.

 

“I hope for your sake that you can explain yourself.” Her blue hologram stared at him, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

Hunk took a fraction of a second to brace himself and then just hit her with the full truth.

“There are Islanders held as slaves in the mountains. They live in the tunnel system that runs through the mountain walls and are forced to melt the stones used to power the mountains.”

The Princess sighed. “You know that we are in there on a mission, Hunk. We can’t risk all of this to save them”

“You can’t ask me to abandon my people!” he snapped. He couldn’t keep his voice down even if her reaction didn’t surprise him. But expecting something and hearing something were two different things.

“But I can ask you not to abandon Lance like you did today.” Right where it hurt. Hunk was at a loss for words. She was right, of course she was. He had abandoned Lance today, let him down when it mattered most and there was no excuse for that.

“I know and I’m sorry for that. Really truly am. But I can’t just leave them here can I?” He was almost begging at this point even though he didn’t know for what anymore. For her to show that she even cared a little bit for his people? For her eyes that seemed as blank as dead to show even a shred of care? For her to own up to her words? Maybe it was none of that, maybe it was a little bit of all.

It didn’t matter in the end because her answer disappointed him anyway. 

“Sometimes we have to choose the lesser of two evils, Hunk,” she said with a soft voice. But Hunk refused to do that. Wrapping dirt up in silk didn’t make a gift out of it.

“Just like abandoning us the first time was the lesser of two evils, right?” he met her eyes with a hard stare, old pain rising back to the surface.

She didn’t answer. She seemed beyond tired at that moment, but guess what, so was he and he was tired of trying to be the bigger person to lessen the brunt for her.  “I thought so,” he scoffed, “I won’t abandon my people, Princess, not like you did.”

“We have a mission to focus on,” she hissed.

“You have a country to run!” he snapped back, “A Princess for the people, not the capital, that’s what you said. Then goddamn act like it.”

He slammed the button on the communicator and her hologram vanished.

* * *

 

 

His chest was burning. Doubt and anger tangled together. Their lines blurred as they bled into each other until they created something worse. His mind was crammed with snippets of conversation. Doubts his friends had voiced and those they had kept to themselves, thinking he wouldn’t see them. 

_ You can’t do this. _

_ You can’t do this. _

_ You can’t do this. _

Was is Shiro’s voice, Keith’s or Pidge’s? Did it matter at this point? They all said the same. And Lance was starting to believe it too. 

He felt the memory of the gun barrel at his forehead. One wrong word this whole thing could’ve been over. One wrong word and he’d let all of them down. He clenched his jaw and rubbed his forehead in hope the feeling would fade. It didn’t.

Lance sighed and sat down on one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. He tried every breathing technique he could think of. But in vain. Calmness eluded him. Again and again, his mind was plagued with the same moments. Him talking to Axe, his words failing, him rambling, threats born out of despair, nothing more than hollow phrases. 

The sound of knocking pulled him out of his thoughts. He answered and frowned when he saw Shiro. Shiro caught his eye and tried himself with a reassuring smile. He succeeded but Lance didn’t found it in himself to answer so he just nodded. 

“Hey, can I sit?” Shiro gestured to the other armchair and sat down when Lance nodded.

“What did you want to talk about?” Lance asked, unable to hide his exhaustion. He couldn’t suppress the dread rising inside of him at another round of doubts placed on him, at another member of his team openly questioning his capabilities.

“I wanted to apologise,” Shiro finally said, fully capturing Lance attention. 

“For what? If anything I have to apologise. I jeopardised our entire mission because I got scared.” Lance scoffed, a sound coloured in self-disgust and lowered his eyes.

“No, you don’t,” Shiro responded almost angry, “You got put in a high-stress situation with little to no back-up and you not only managed to get out in one piece but are also going to get us the information we need. While yes, there were some things that went wrong, you got us what we needed that’s all that matters.”

And just like that some of the weight on his chest lifted. He didn’t know how, but it just did. Everything it took for him was Shiro to whip out one of his inspirational speeches and boom! The world seemed a little brighter and less scary.

“But Pidge and Keith don’t seem to think so do they?” Lance tried to joke, but the words stung too much to really carry the joke. 

“If you believe it or not, they’re worried. I’ve known both of them long enough that they don’t do well when it comes to… well, people in general it seems.” Shiro so desperately tried to phrase it in a way that didn’t come off as mean that Lance couldn’t help but laugh. Both Pidge and Keith sucked at people, majorly so, and the fact that Shiro managed to put it that nicely came close to a miracle.

Shiro joined in on his laughter but caught himself so that he could continue speaking. “We’re all very worried about you going in. We wouldn’t want anything happening to our sharpshooter, huh?” 

And again Lance had to smile even though he had been on the brink of crying just a few moments ago.

“No but seriously though; don‘t doubt yourself, Lance. You said you can do this and you will.” Shiro looked at him with eyes full of unwavering determination and suddenly Lance actually thought he could do this. Shiro believed in him and even if some vicious part of his brain was taunting him and whispering that Shiro was just saying it to be nice, Lance didn’t listen. Even if it was a lie, he would believe it. Because believing Shiro was so incredibly easy. 

“Thank you, Shiro. I actually feel better now.” It surprised himself that those words weren’t a lie.

“Anytime, Lance.” 

“Alright, you mentioned that you’re sleeping alone right? Looks like this is your room then. I’ll take one of the others.” Lance got up, walked to the door and bid Shiro goodnight. 

He entered the living room at the same time Hunk walked out of one of the other bedrooms.

“You’re back?” Lance couldn’t keep the sharpness out of his voice. 

Hunk closed his eyes and for the fraction of a second, it looked like he was about to cry. But he caught himself and spoke.

“I… I’m sorry. That I wasn’t there today, wasn’t where you needed me to be. I’m so sorry that I let you down, Lance.” Hunk looked at him, eyes filled to the brim with pain and regret and  _ goddammit _ , it was working. Lance felt his anger melt away like ice in the sun.

“What was so important anyway?” The sharpness had bled away and all he was left with was exhaustion.

Hunk took a deep breath and forced out the next words. “The mountain holds islanders as slaves. They take them in as refugees and let them work as slaves to keep things like electricity running.”

“What?” Lance’s eyes widened. Hunk nodded, jaw clenched, shoulders tensed.

“What are you going to do?” Lance asked, not even blinking at Hunk’s surprised expression.

“How─?”

“ _ Hunk _ . I’ve known you long enough. You’re not going to stand by and just watch. What is your plan?” Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had no doubts that Hunk had some type of idea, injustice and Hunk didn’t coexist.

“I don’t know, Lance. I really don’t know Lance. The princess doesn’t think we should get involved with that but I can’t just leave them here!” Tears pooled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Lance swallowed. “Hunk, it’s late, you’re not thinking properly. Go to bed, get some sleep, we’ll figure something out in the morning. Together, like we always do, buddy.” Hunk nodded tears still running. Lance sighed and lifted his arms.

In an instant Hunk was there, shoulders trembling and tears soaking Lance’s shirt. The remained like that for a while, arms tight, tears running.

Hunk straightened and wiped away the rest of his tears. “I’ll go to bed then,” he whispered and Lance wanted nothing more than to tell him that everything would be fine, that he would go to bed and wake up in a world where every problem would be solved for him, but he couldn’t and Hunk deserved more than hollow lies.

So he nodded, shot him another smile and watched him disappear into one of the bedrooms. 

Well, that solved the question of where he was sleeping that night. Lance opened the door of the other bedroom and was met with Keith’s back. Because who else would it be?

“Hello, roommate!” Lance drawled, lips quirking when Keith startled. He turned and shot Lance an intense look. For a second Lance thought he was going to just keep arguing like he did earlier but instead he averted his eyes and said. “You can have the bed, I can sleep on the floor.”

“And end up with the back pain of the century, unable to even move an inch tomorrow? I think not.” Lance scoffed. “It’s a queen size, so we both should be able to fit.” Lance purposely kept his voice bored and ignored Keith’s attempts at protest.

“Fine if you’re sure.”

“Yes, I am.” Lance quipped back, “It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Lance suppressed the memory of Keith tracing circles on his ribs, of Keiths weight against him, of─ 

Goddammit.

Lance toed off his shoes and laid down, demonstratingly leaving enough space for Keith. A few seconds passed and the bed dipped. The corners of his mouth curled up in a smirk. Success.

They laid next to each other for a while. Lance’s consciousness was already slipping, dragged down by his exhaustion when Keith pulled him back once more.

“Lance, are you asleep?”

“Not anymore.” Lance snarked, slow and lazy.

“Sorry… “Keith paused. Lance opened his eyes only to catch him staring at him. It was a marvellous sight, he had to admit that. The golden glow from the mountain walls fell through the window behind him and turned his face into something ethereal. Lance’s cheeks heated up at that thought.

“Can you promise me something?” Keith sounded hesitant, as if it wasn’t his place to ask.

“That depends. If it’s about making fun of your hair, then nope. That mullet is a tragedy, buddy.” 

“Shut up!” Keith snapped, but the hints of a smile on his lips told Lance that he managed to get rid of the hesitation, so it was worth it. 

“Be careful tomorrow. Please.” His face turned dead serious and Lance felt his intense eyes on his face. He took Keith’s words as doubt at first, after all that’s all that he had gotten from him in the last few days, but then he remembered Shiro’s words and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He sighed and whispered. 

“Fine, I promise.”

The smile he got out of Keith followed him all the way to his dreams and Lance didn’t find it him to see something bad in that.

#### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you made it! I hope you like this chap and maybe consider leaving me a review. I love hearing from you guys!
> 
> Abt Hunk's backstory/tattoos: I took inspiration from Polynesian Culture and did my best not to get anything wrong. But I'm only human (a fairly incompetent one at that) so if I got anything wrong or offend you please tell me and I'll try to change it.
> 
> As to future updates: School starts tomorrow (yay...) so I'll be a lot busier. I'll try to upload within the next 4-6 weeks but I can't promise you anything. I'll try though! Promise!
> 
> Social media: You can find me BOTH on Tumblr and Twitter @cxnfiscated. Feel free to yell at me abt voltron, the dragon prince etc.
> 
> Soo, yeah, I really hope you guys enjoyed and I'll see you next time!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh it's been a while,,,, i'm sorry. School happened and yeah, i pretty much died (man, i love the German education system)
> 
> ANYWAY,,, Here's the chapter! Enjoy!

The next morning was nothing more than a blurry stream of memories. Lance woke up with his head rising and falling on Keith’s chest. Mortification rose and pounded in his chest like an ignored guest demanding for attention. But that demand wouldn’t go answered, not when the redness staining Keith’s cheeks painted a much prettier picture.

 

Despite their mutual mortification, neither one of them had the guts to move first, neither one of them seemed to want to.  For the first time in days, stress and worry were too far away to reach them. No tension in their shoulders, no anger looming behind creased foreheads, no sharp words cutting into tongues, already aching from holding them back. It was a blessing, really, and both of them had been worn down enough that they felt too weak to resist. 

 

They held their position without saying a word, basking in the silence that finally seemed like it was built to last.

 

At least, until Pidge began banging at their door. Her yelling, filled to the brim with all kinds of profanities and foul language, was the needle damming their bubble of calm and relaxation. His ears were still ringing with an imaginary bang while he tried to regain his composure. It was an effort in vain. His movements remained clumsy and hectic while his eyes seemed to have gotten stuck in their bauble-like size.   

 

He wasn’t the only one, though.

 

Keith stared at him, wide-eyed and sleep-soft, just as deranged as he was and with no foreseeable future of composure. Lance couldn’t bring himself to mock Keith for his bed head like he had planned to do to avoid talking about the…  _ thing  _ that had gone down here. The quip died in his throat and turned into an exhale before it even reached his lips.

 

His heart melted at the rumpled sight of Keith. Sleep had taken all of his hard edges and had left nothing but softness in its wake. He couldn’t make fun of Keith, not  when he looked like that 

 

Instead, he went on to making fun of Pidge’s accent. He threw a surprisingly accurate imitation of it back at her. 

 

Keith visibly caught himself, the last remains of soft confusion bleeding away and Lance found himself mourning their absence. He didn’t even try to tell himself otherwise, this was one of the things not even  _ he  _ could lie about. 

 

Keith nodded at him on his way towards the door and Lance winked at him, his grin widening as he received an eye roll in return. Just like that, they both knew that  _ this  _ wouldn’t be talked about.

 

But still, Keith’s warmth that had soaked into his skin stayed with him until he was back in front of Axe’s door. It was still ridiculously elaborate, extra for the sake of being extra, and Lance readjusted himself until his arrogance matched that of its owner.

 

“I see you’re back,” Axe gripped one of the champagne glasses, arranged on the coffee table next to them. They didn’t rise when their guard ─ or whatever he was ─ closed the door behind Lance. Instead, they motioned for him to sit.

 

“Alcohol? This early in the morning?” Lance snarked just for the sake of it.

 

“I need booze to get through this,” they replied dryly and the heavy bags underneath their eyes seemed to agree with them. It was obvious that whatever impression Lance had left them with yesterday had stolen every hour of sleep they might have gotten. Despite their elaborate and intricate makeup ─ Lance marvelled at the glittering rhinestones they had placed around their eyes and down the bridge of their nose ─ their skin still seemed to swallow all of the light rather than shining it back at him.

 

“So what do you have for me?” Lance asked after Axe drained their first glass of champagne only to immediately reach for the next one.

 

Axe shot him an annoyed look over the brim of their glass and sighed as they set it down. Lance saw them open their mouth. Then the room went dark.

 

“Axe! What’s happening?” His panic-filled voice immediately alarmed the rest of his team and Lance heard their voices surge inside his comms.

“I don’t know!” Axe snapped but not less tense. Lance heard them clicking a few buttons and a light went on. It was a ball, almost like a small sun, illuminating the centre of the room but not quite able to banish the darkness looming in its corners. 

 

“Pidge, what’s going on?” Lance asked as furious typing filled the comms.

 

_ “I don’t know. It looks there has been a breach in the mountains security system.” _

_ “There’s no possibility that that might have been you? Not even a bit?”  _ Hunk asked, oddly hopeful. Lance huffed out what might have counted at a laugh if it hadn’t been pressed through clenched teeth.

 

“Who are you talking to?!” Axe barked at him.

“Shut up!” Lance snapped. _ “Any idea on who they are?” _

 

_ “No idea,”  _ Keith answered, his voice low and steady,  _ “But the patrons in the bar are starting to get suspicious.” _

 

_ “Let them. We should focus on the mission,”  _ Shiro said, always the leader, _ “Lance has Axe given you the intel yet?” _

 

_ “No, but I’m working on it,” _ he grumbled, pinning Axe with a glare _. _

 

_ “Guys, bad news!”  _ Pidge interjected, high note of alarm ringing in her voice, _ “Those are Galran hackers.” _

_ “What? How? No one knows about this place outside of Altea.”  _ All calmness had left Keith and dread sharpened the edges of his words.

_ “Pidge?” _ Hunk asked, his tone revealing that more bad news were coming,  _ “Did you use your own computer to hack the mountain’s database or the one Coran gave you?” _

 

_ “Coran’s. Why?”  _ Pidge asked. She hadn’t even finished the sentence when it dawned on her. “ _ Shit! Shit! Shit!  _ Shit!”

_ “What?”  _ Lance blurted out, his pulse rising alongside the fear in Pidge’s voice.

 

_ “Each time you hack someone, at least a system as complex as this one, you leave a signature, almost like a fingerprint, proof that you’ve been there. I hadn’t thought of it! God I’m so stu─”  _

 

_ “Pidge! Focus! What did you do?”  _ Keith interrupted her babbling, now just as antsy as Lance.

 

_ “They can use the fingerprint to find us.” _

 

_ “Oh, my God.”  _ Now Hunk joined the panic club too, though Lance was sure he had already been president before he and Keith even arrived there.

_ “It’s not likely that they’ll find us. But in theory, they can trace the fingerprint back to the computer, use its Altean signature to find the ship and maybe ─ and that’s a  _ big  _ maybe  _ ─ _ track it” _

 

_ “Well then get rid of it!” Lance yelled, furious that they weren’t even considering the easiest option. _

_ “I can’t! I haven’t even decrypted half of the files, all of this would’ve been for nothing.”  _ She was panting now and he could almost see her as if she was standing right in front of him. Bright red cheeks, her finger gripping tousled blond hair, eyes burning. There was no way to persuade her now.

 

_ “What is the quickest way to get out of here?”  _ Keith asked, as more furious typing filled the comms. _ “Already on it. But ─  _ Goddamn it!”

_“What_ now!?” Hunk cried and Lance felt like joining him.

 

_ “They got into the security system and blocked the doors. I’m trying to override their commands but it’s not working.”   _ There was a moment of deafening silence when the realisation settled in.

 

_ “So we’re trapped.” _

This was bad. Holy crap, this was  _ so  _ bad. Lance immediately made a run for the door, already trying to remember the way he had come from. But Axe wasn’t having it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” They positioned themselves in front of him, their posture ─ wide stance, crossed arms, raised chin ─ making up for the inches Lance had on them. But Lance had come too far to be threatened now. 

 

“I’m getting out of here. Move!” He shaded the colour of anger in his voice with authority and forced himself not to show the panic building and rising in his chest. But Axe proved themselves a worthy opponent.

 

“Wait!” The sounded more panicked than probably intended but they met his gaze and gripped his biceps. As if their tiny arms could physically stop him from leaving. “You need me. I have viable information.”

 

“Not as viable as my life and that of my teammates, Axe,” Lance said. He didn’t even have to lie, Axe could offer him the stars themselves, Lance wouldn’t put the lives of his team on the line.

_ Lance, where are you?!”  _ Keith asked again, even more pressing than before. Lance faintly heard the ruckus going on in the bar, but even more importantly the sound of Keith’s steps rang through the comms. There were faint almost not there but Lance would recognise those boots everywhere, would recognise Keith everywhere.

 

“ _ On my way, _ ” Lance answered and reverted his attention back to Axe. “Let me pass.”

“Take me with you.” 

“And why would I do that? You pulled a gun on me!” They didn’t even show a semblance of regret at that. Lance could’ve strangled them.

“If you leave me here, I’ll… I’ll─ “ they trailed off as if feverishly looking for leverage, for any value they could possibly hold to him.

 

“What?” His voice sounded like stone, even to him, but it had to. He didn’t trust himself not to pity them. They looked even more like a child, now that fear was distorting the lines of their face. His heartstrings, pulled and torn at, began to fray. 

 

“I’ll tell everyone who you are. That you’re with the crown. That you’re with those that abandoned them.” They rose to their full height and shot him a determined glare.  _ Don’t tell me I wouldn’t. We both know I will.  _ The message went unsaid but didn’t go unreceived. 

 

But Lance hadn’t come this far just to cave.

 

“Criminals don’t deserve the protection of the crown.” Lance glared at them over the bridge of his nose and crossed his arms. He conjured up the kind of authority the suit demanded, doing justice to its crisp lines and deep, intense blue.

 

“It doesn’t matter whether I deserve it or not. What’s most important is that  _ you _ currently don’t have it,” they shot him a smile that made him shudder, a curve drawn by madness, “There is no way out. You’ll be livestock waiting for the butcher to bring you to your destiny.”

 

His own threat flew back at him and hit him square in the chest. The only difference: This wasn’t a bluff, these were words spoken out of true desperation and with a level of sincerity Lance could never reach. He could coat his hands in fifty layers of blood and wouldn’t even be halfway there.

 

“ _ Lance, just take them with you. We can’t risk losing you because of them,”  _ Shiro said, his voice dressed in stoicism appropriate for battle. It was in times like these that Lance most vividly remembered that Shiro had seen the most atrocities of them all, had gone through hell and lived long enough to be haunted by it too. So Lance, for once, didn’t argue.

 

“Fine, lead the way,” Lance gestured towards the door and Axe began to walk. They walked and walked but Lance didn’t pay attention to where Axe was leading them, couldn’t have even if he had wanted to. Instead, he listened for the rest of his team, counted the number of breaths he heard until he counted four and then did it again. 

 

Four of them breathing, four of them alive. He felt like praying to make it stay that way. But there were no gods to save them now, no saints to guide them on their way out. They were a ragtag group of felons and deserters and that would have to be enough.

 

Sounds exploded around them when they left the bar through a backdoor, a cacophony of frightened voices, the wails of terrified children and their equally scared parents frantically trying to calm them. Lance felt the urge to cover his ears, to shut out the harsh reality they lived in but he didn’t. He’d have to think about it eventually 

 

_ “Keith, Hunk, we’re outside the bar. Meet us behind it,”  _ he said into the comms. Tension was running high in his body and not even Keith and Hunk sounding off could soothe it.

 

_ “Shiro, Pidge where are you?”  _

_ “We’re in the control room but we can’t access the door to the main part of the mountain.”  _ Pidge’s typing and cursing swelled as Shiro answered. 

_ “So you can’t reach us,”  _ Hunk concluded, panting.

_ “No _ , _ ” _ Shiro answered and dread settled in Lance’s stomach. So that meant not only one dangerous and possibly deadly escape route but two. Great.

 

“Lance!” Hunk and Keith jogged around the corner of the building and joined them both panting and sweating.

 

“Hunk! Keith! Are you two okay?” Lance scanned them both for any possible injuries.

“Yes, we’re fine. You yourself?” Keith lowered his red scarf and Lance nodded. Ice cold relief flooded his veins as he saw both of them safe and sound. Or at least as safe and sound they would get for the foreseeable future. Axe behind him scoffed and muttered something about them not having time but Lance ignored them. 

“How are we going to get out?” Lance asked. Hunk pulled up a three-dimensional hologram of the mountain and Keith spun and adjusted it until it showed their current location. 

“Everything in red shows the sealed off exits,” he explained. Lance swallowed at the map. The network of paths and corridors kept reddening and reddening. It was like watching the spread of an epidemic in real time.

“The slaves!!” Axe exclaimed triumphantly like those two words would solve all of their problems. No one should ever be that happy about slavery. “The slaves have a vast network of halls and corridors that run through the mountain. None of them are on any floor plans so they will likely remain untouched.”

“You know of the slaves?” Hunk narrowed his eyes at them, his voice hard as steel.

“Who do you think put them there?” Axe asked arrogantly and for a moment it looked like Hunk was actually going to kill them. That he would put his massive biceps to use and break them in half like a twig. 

“ _ Okay, you know what, change of plans. Let’s leave them here.” _ Hunk said in the comms but Lance wasn’t even sure he was kidding.

“ _ Hunk!” _ Pidge pressed out through clenched teeth.

“ _ Fine, but I’m not taking a bullet for them if they get shot at.”  _

Hunk turned and began walking, the echo of his boots like thunder. Lance, Keith and Axe scrambled to catch up to him. Together they wove their way through the crowd that was still reeling from when the power went out and drenched them in darkness. Panicked voices rose and receded around them like waves of an ocean but Hunk tore through them effortlessly. 

Lance glanced at Hunk’s profile, his clenched jaw that was usually rounded and gentle, his posture that usually invited everyone in, now locked up by rage. It was like watching the sun itself lose its shine. This shouldn’t be, they shouldn’t be part of a war that hardened even the softest heart, that trampled flowers to make way for concrete.

Hunk led them past the bustling centre of the market and towards its outskirts that seemed more like a village than a crime hub. The crowd around them thinned until the people were far and few, hidden in the shadows, their face hardened by wariness and disgust. 

“ _ Pidge, Shiro, sound off,” _ Keith ordered through the comms. Lance didn’t turn to look at Keith but he still heard the hints of the worry in his voice Shiro had told him about yesterday. Hints that became even more obvious now that he knew to look for them.

They passed the last row of huts that stood like veterans, battered and bruised by war and yet, refusing to fall. They looked like they could be anywhere, not just here amidst crime and smuggling. But that was only until they came closer and Lance saw that their facades had been pelted with gunshots over and over again.

“Hunk!” A female voice called out. She wore black ink on her biceps, the same Hunk wore on his forearm, its stark black lines almost entirely hidden by the dirt and dust caking her skin.

“I hadn’t expected you to be back so soon. What is happening?” She sounded genuinely worried for him, despite the fact that they only knew each other for a day. But a shared heritage forged bonds deeper than time restrictions, Lance guessed, when he saw the same warmth in Hunk’s eyes when he answered.

“I need to ask a favour of you, and I fear you won’t like it.” He began kneading his hands, how he always did when he was nervous. “You said that there was a vast network of hallways in the Mountain.”

“Yes, there is. Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion.

“You also said that there were a couple of dozens of slaves, right?” Hunk pressed on instead of answering her question and her suspicion grew.

“Yes,” she answered slowly, “Why are you asking all of this?” 

“What if I offered you a way for all of you to escape?”

“ _ Hunk,”  _ she warned and met his eyes in a serious gaze, not even allowing herself to be hopeful.

“But there’s a catch,” Because there was always a catch. Nothing in life came free anymore, nothing worth having anyway.

Hunk took a step to the side and revealed Axe. “We have to take them too”

* * *

  
  


“Absolutely not.” Rax took a look at Axe and then set his furious eyes on Hunk, Lance and Keith.

“I can’t believe the fucking nerve you guys have! Bringing them here, asking us to save them. No! Absolutely not!” Rax boomed, his anger bouncing off the walls in the cave. But Axe didn’t even so much as flinch.

Hunk did though, hard. Rax’ thunder of a voice collided with the mountain walls and haunted him from every side.

“And  _ you!” _ Rax now fully turned to face them, gathering all his anger like ammunition to fire it off one by one. “You’re of brown skin yourself! Didn’t your ancestors live with their backs bowed and their wrists in shackles? You’re born from a race of slaves and yet, you have the  _ shamelessness _ to put us, your brown brothers and sisters, through the same? 

The booming thunder of his voice didn’t lessen, his anger didn’t fade like it usually did with people who finally got to snap. No, it only burned brighter, like the audience it had was kerosene to its flame. 

Hunk felt his insides resonate with the same kind of rage. Islanders lived with a sense of community. It was passed from generation to generation, a sense of unity and family born from a shared history and a shared sense of culture. Customs, traditions, storytelling. All of these things had bled together to create who he was and would determine who he was going to be. To see someone so similar to him, think in terms of  _ I  _ and not of  _ we _ was jarring and unsettling.

Rax had put himself between the slaves and Axe, fully dwarfing them with his massive statue. It seemed like he was willing to murder Axe with his bare hands if they even so much as looked at the other slaves. Hunk saw the look in his eyes and some darker and much more vicious part of his mind told that he would do the same.

Axe had put the Islanders in shackles, so Rax would gladly give them the shackles of death to wear forever.

Surprisingly Axe didn’t curl up, didn’t try to make themselves small, didn’t try to make the words hurt any less. Instead, they pulled on a face full of arrogance and coldness and that vicious part in Hunk, the same one from earlier, gained in size and volume, feasting on his hatred.

Axe straightened up to their full height and lifted their chin. “I don’t need to concern myself with my ancestors. They hold no influence over my life,” Axe spoke almost eerily calm, their voice completely devoid of any feeling, “I was born into poverty, yes, and I clawed my way up to the top, yes. I have  _ betrayed and stolen and murdered _ and you know what? I don’t regret  _ anything _ . I did what I had to do to get here.” They gestured to their expensive leather suit, that hugged the sharp lines of their body and twinkled whenever they even so much as took a breath.

Rax stared at them with wide eyes and Hunk felt the same. Suspicions were one thing. Suspicion still offered the possibility of being wrong and some part of him, he guessed, had hoped to be wrong. Had clung to the foolish idea that Axe might not have meant everything they had said and only pulled on that facade to ensure that they would survive inside the mountain without being challenged. He had wanted to believe in some semblance of humanity, buried deeply between layers of cruelty.

He had hoped in vain and was paying for it now.

Axe’s black eyes shone with complete apathy. They only raised an eyebrow, the gesture almost amused, when Rax stared at them wordlessly.

“Rot in hell” he ground out through clenched teeth, then he turned to Hunk. “You still have the guts to ask us to take them with us?” 

Hunk shot him a pained look, his knuckles pounding and his palms burning. “We need them, please.” Rax shot him a long, hard look, the air around them crackling with tension.

Rax held up a finger.“Fine, under one condition.” 

Hunk sighed in relief “Thank you. What is your condition?”

“This,” Rax answered. Then his fist collided with Axe’s face. 

The sickening crunch of breaking bone and Axe’s agonised yelling filled the cave but not a fibre of Hunk felt pity with Axe, as they held their now crooked nose trying to stop the blood flow. Keith, who up until now had remained completely silent, even went so far as snorting. He barely hid his laughter behind his fist and even some of the other slaves had to fight their laughter.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.” Rax shook out his fist, hint of a smug smile playing on his lips. “Now we can leave.”

“Let’s go then,” Keith said, last bits of  _ schadenfreude _ melting off his face.

 

* * *

His heartbeat was thunder in his ears as they followed Rax’s instructions. Their comms while open remained silent on Shiro and Pidge’s side. The only things they heard were shallow breaths and mumbled directions. Keith clung to them like a straw. He had already lost Shiro once and he would tear this mountain apart with his bare hands to keep it from happening again. 

Shiro and Pidge’s steps echoed through the comms. They were faint, so faint that the panic monster in the back of his mind was crooning things that made him doubt them. But they were there. They  _ had _ to be.

_ “Pidge, Shiro. Sound off and status report.”  _ Mission jargon sounded so natural in Lance’s voice that Keith almost didn’t remember what a pain it had been for Lance to memorise all of the different terms and orders and actually  _ remember  _ to use them when it mattered. 

_ “We left the control room and are headed towards your escape route,” _ Shiro sounded uneasy, almost like there was something he wanted to so say but didn’t. 

_ “Are there any problems?”  _ Keith asked, fully aware that his voice was just shy of an order. Concern or not, he couldn’t soften his voice when he spoke to Shiro. Hadn’t been able to do it for days now.

_ “There might be Galran mercenaries already in the Mountain. We’re not sure. The data referenced something like exit routes determined for multiple people but I’m not sure whether they’re just there as a precaution or not.”  _ Pidge had already begun to pant, the harsh, rhythmic sound underlining the urgency in her voice. Keith swallowed and looked to his right. 

Lance next to him had pulled out his bayard and kept his eyes straight ahead. Hunk walked behind the big group of slaves to protect them from behind. Something in his mind told him that  _ he  _ should be the six, that Hunk shouldn’t be put at risk like that. But just the thought of leaving Lance’s sight after he had heard that Axe had pulled a gun on him, made that part of him crumble into a piece of ash. So he was stuck here, his mind tearing itself into shreds because it couldn’t do what mattered most, couldn’t make sure that no one would get hurt. 

They kept walking, taking turn after turn into dark hallways, walls creeping closer and closer.

For a while, there was nothing but steps but when they turned again, it rained gunfire

“EVERYONE BACK!” Keith yelled as he pushed the slaves behind him back. Gunfire kept pelting the walls, bullets rolling over the floor.

“Hunk! Stay with them!” Keith made eye contact with Hunk over the heads of the slaves that sat huddled on the floor. Hunk nodded his bayard, a massive grenade launcher already on his shoulder.

“Lance!” Keith shifted his gaze to Lance who had shed his suit jacket and gripped his now transformed bayard, “You’re with me.”

Keith activated the shield Allura had given him and pulled out his sword when Lance held him back. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Keith yelled over the sound of gunfire.

“I’ve gotten a look at their guns. Please trust me on this, okay?” Lance’s fingers bit into his biceps and Keith wanted nothing more than to tear free. But he didn’t. He squashed his instinct and trusted Lance.

“Galran types of assault rifles all have an almost ridiculously low number of shots per magazine,” gunshots hitting the wall at their backs broke up his words, “5… 4… 3.. get ready. 2 ...1… It’s empty GO!” 

He pushed Keith around the corner and began to shoot at their opponents who obviously weren’t expecting such a direct attack. 

Their shock gave Keith the opening he needed. He began tearing through them, his sword meeting flesh? Bone? He didn’t even care anymore. As long as they didn’t hit him, it didn’t matter. He trusted Lance not to accidentally shoot him and moved without hesitation. One by one his opponents fell, as blood pooled beneath his feet.

Gunpowder and the metallic stink of blood filled his nose as the air around them thickened, swollen with tension and sweat and exhaustion. Keith grunted when he rammed the hilt of his sword into the jaw of one of the mummed Galran mercenaries. Pain exploded in his ribcage when her foot connected with it and he hissed out a sharp breath.

Then he heard Lance scream.

“KEITH! DUCK!” Keith dropped to his knees, as a thin blade soared right through where his head would have been and embedded itself in the neck of his opponent. She went down, clawing at her neck with a gurgling sound.

Keith quickly caught himself ─ he could marvel at Lance later, and  _ yeah  _ he would─ and cut down the last of the mercenaries. They collapsed right at his feet but the stream didn’t lessen, they just kept coming. 

They would never make it out of there.

Keith fell himself fall into the depth of despair but Lance voice rang through the comms and was the hook that reeled him back in. “ _ Hunk, are any mercenaries coming from your direction?”  _ Lance had a slow voice that spoke of a thought forming in his head. Which was great because it didn’t seem like Keith would be any help in that department. 

Lance shot down a mercenary who came dangerously close to Keith and Keith was once more stunned speechless. How did he do that?

“ _ Yeah, everything’s clear on my end. Why?” _

“ _ Keith, you remember that fork we came by earlier?”  _ Lance now spoke to him but Keith figured he’d first chop up the mercenary who came dangerously close to chopping  _ him  _ into pieces. “ _ Yeah, why?”  _

_ “I have an idea. Could you get Shay next to the comms Hunk?”  _ Another spray of gunshots filled the comms but Keith still didn’t fear that Lance would hit him, not even in a corridor that small.

_ “Lance, it’s Shay what do you need?” _

_ “Shay you said that the lines on the walls are used to power the mountain right?”  _ Keith wanted to answer but he came dangerously close to his opponent's dagger. The long curved blade was nothing but a deadly blur as it narrowly missed his face. Keith growled out a curse but caught himself.

_ “Yeah, they hold some type of fuel which works similar to gas.”  _

_ “Absolutely perfect.”  _ Lance sounded almost inappropriately gleeful at that. 

“ _ Lance!”  _ Keith warned, panic looming in his voice.

_ Hunk, Keith. On my mark, both of you turn around and run as fast as you can.”  _ Lance ordered.

“ _ Which direction? _ ” Hunk asked.

_ “You’ll know which direction.”  _ Out of his periphery, Keith saw Lance line up his gun with something on the walls and his eyes widened. Oh no, he wouldn’t.

But Lance absolutely did.

“ _ Get ready. Three. Two,”  _ Keith rammed his sword into his opponent’s shin and whipped around. “ _ RUN!” _

There was a deafening  _ bang  _ and suddenly there were flames everywhere. Lance’s shot had collided with the low ceiling of the hallway and made it rained fire upon their enemies. Keith crashed into Lance but only Keith gripped his hands and kept running.

_ I won’t let your stupid, brilliant idea kill you, for fuck’s sake.  _

They caught up to Hunk and the rest of their group and rounded the corner but Keith only focused on Lance.

“Are you okay?” He gripped Lance’s upper arms and hastily began to search him for injuries.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Lance tried himself at a smile but it slipped right off when his eyes fell down to Keith’s left forearm, where the white of his sleeve was slowly giving way to red.

“But you’re not,” He said disapprovingly, as his hands wandered over Keith’s torso. Keith hissed when Lance’s hands met his ribs. “Maybe not the ribs, Lance.” Lance’s frown deepened.

_ Better me than you, _ that thought rang so clear in Keith’s mind that he didn’t startle at it. Didn’t even question it because  _ of course, it was true. _

“You should have stayed close to me.” Lance frowned at him but heeded Keith’s complaints. The loss of his hands left Keith colder than he expected. Lance merely shot him an unreadable look, shook his head at Keith’s silence and turned to the slaves, Axe and Hunk already catching up to them.

“Everyone alright?” Lance asked and his shoulders dropping in relief when everyone nodded.  

_ “Shiro, Pidge. Sound off,”  _ Hunks voice rang through the comms once, twice and then a dozen times but they received no answer. The silence cut through every last bit of relief he might have felt at their lucky escape. Keith pulled his shoulders up to his ears, as his entire body locked up. White hot panic bubbled up in his chest, buried its teeth in his mind and began to pull and tear at it like a beast.

When Keith lifted his head again, he felt the prickling sensation of Lance's eyes on the side of his face. He was about to force himself to ignore Lance ─  It was the only option for him. Once his eyes met Lance’s, once Lance gaze was under his skin… Keith would come undone, right then and there.

But Lance wasn’t having it. He gripped Keith’s wrist, his hand surprisingly gentle, and halted his movements. “Don’t worry. They are fine,” Lance murmured so the rest wouldn’t hear him, as they were rearranging themselves back to their previous order.

“How do you know that? Keith sounded so small that he wanted to kick himself. Now wasn’t the time to be weak. 

He almost expected Lance to make fun of his voice cracking. After all, he had done it before. But when he forced himself to stop avoiding Lance’s gaze like a coward, he was hit by the unexpected.

Instead of tearing him down, instead of unravelling him seam by seam. Lance’s voice—his eyes,  _ everything _ about him— put Keith back together. Piece by piece, no matter how shattered he was. “They will come back to us. Shiro has come back before and will do it again this time.”

Keith drank in Lance’s appearance, the rumpled shirt torn in some place, his beautifully fine facial features, caked with dirt and dried blood, his eyes so vibrant and  _ alive. _ It was like just looking at him was already helping. Lance words rang through his mind and Keith didn‘t even have the time to even consider whether or not he believed them. How could he not? It was  _ Lance. _

He shot him the beginnings of a smile that Lance answered with one of his own and pulled back his shoulders. “Alright then, let’s keep moving.” Keith’s words carried through the corridor and all of the slaves began to walk.

Time passed agonisingly slow. Their steps echoed through the hallways and Keith had to tear at his self-discipline each time his paranoia forced his mind to play tricks on him. Lance next to him didn’t retract his bayard nor did he drop the tension that had found its home in his shoulders. They crossed hallways again and again until a loud bang had Lance, Hunk and him freeze and stay rooted right where they were.

His bayard was already raised when he realised that there wasn’t an attack. Or rather that  _ they  _ weren’t under attack. It took him a full second to realise that the sound had come from their comms and that that meant─ 

_ Shiro! Pidge! _

  
_ “Pidge! Shiro! What’s going on?” _ Lance yelled into the comms but what they got were more fighting sounds. Gunshots pelting metal, the electric buzz from both Shiro’s arm and Pidge’s katar, cries of pain, but no answer. They tried again, and again until Lance gripped his arm, pulling him forward.  


“What are you doing?” Keith snarled at him like a wild animal. 

Lance stared him down but remained steady. “We  _ need  _ to keep walking. They can only make their way out if we make it out first.”

Keith clenched his teeth, angry growl already forming in his throat. Lance was right, he didn’t like it, but Lance was right. Shiro and Pidge had locked onto their position and were relying on them to navigate the hallway system of the mountain. They couldn’t fail them now. But─

“Keith  _ focus!  _ They will be fine. They have been before and they will too this time. I need you, buddy. I can’t protect all of them alone.” Lance forced him to meet his eyes and waited until he nodded to release his grip. 

“Let’s go then.” He straightened himself out and signalled the group to keep walking. Keith elongated his steps till they matched Lance’s and forced himself not to be consumed by worry, as the sound of fighting swelled in their ears. 

Sweat was pooling in his collar when they finally made it out and stepped into the hot desert sun. Keith turned as soon as the last slave made it out of the mountain. 

“Keith!” This time it was Hunk who held him back and tried to tear him out of his worried frenzy. Lance popped up right at his side equal panicked, with fear pulling at the lines of his face.

“You can’t go in there, buddy!” Lance now yelled, red splotches rising on his cheeks. 

“Yeah, he’s right! You’re without armour, without backup in a network of dark hallways. You will be lost within minutes!!” 

“Keith,  _ please  _ don’t do this!” Lance fisted his hand into his hair and stared at him. For a moment there was nothing but silence settling around them. It seemed like the universe itself was holding his breath, as his mind was battling every fibre of his being. 

A fight without a winner. 

Lance’s eyes strayed from his face and widened when he looked over Keith’s shoulder. Without warning, he yelled, “EVERYONE DOWN!” and tackled Keith into the sand. All air was pressed out of his lungs when his head collided with the sands.

Then gunshots began to rain anew.

Keith forced his head up as Lance rolled off him. Half a dozen attackers armed to the teeth knives and guns came sprinting towards them with breakneck speed. He shot to his feet and looked over to Hunk. All three of them had managed to take shelter behind a particularly high dune and were so far unharmed.

“Hunk, get back to the slaves and Axe, keep them safe.” Hunk nodded and already began to slowly rob towards the slaves. 

“Lance!” Keith turned to face him and lifted his sword

“On it!” They both nodded and rose to their full height. Ready to do everything needed to keep those behind them safe.

Keith drew up his shield and positioned himself in front of Lance. Shots flew over his head, their sound ringing in his ears as he waited for their opponents to get closer and closer. Just a little bit more and a little bit more ─

Finally.

He retracted his shield and shot forward, sword raised his mind sharp. He used his elevation and jumped down onto one of the mercenaries hitting them square in the chest. The black-clad figure went down with a grunt as Keith rammed the hilt of his sword into their sternum. It yielded with an ear-piercing crunch and Keith went onto his next opponent. 

His mind cleared as the wounded cries of his opponents blended with Lance’s rain of shots. The last one of them sank to the ground and Keith was about to sag in relief when Hunk yelled through the comms.

A swarm of new mercenaries emerged from the dark of the mountain exit like a swarm of bugs. These ones, however, weren’t shooting. None of them carried guns. Keith let down a string of curses when he saw them approach way faster than the last ones did.

Within seconds Keith was back where he started, his sword and daggers coated in blood as he fought off his opponents threatening to overwhelm him. Lance shot them down as best as he could but they were too many. It was like for every one of them that went down two new ones appeared.

Something hit the back of his leg and his knee, the very same one he had nearly smashed in Sorans, gave out beneath him.

“ _ Keith! _ .” A joined cry filled by the same fear.

The number of shot around him doubled as Keith fought himself back onto his feet. He used the last bits of his energy to cut down the last mercenary and felt like crying when the next swarm appeared at the exit.

_ Oh for fucks─  _

This wouldn’t work. Despair rose again, as Keith saw the swarm of mercenaries running towards him. He lost himself in a flurry of kicks and blow, of his sword meeting metal and bone and flesh.

_ “Keith!” _  Keith shot around when he heard Lance’s cry and collided face first with the back of a knife as pain exploded in the back of his leg.

When he opened his eyes again he was suddenly lying down, sand crinkling as he turned his head. The cacophony of fighting that had burned inside his ears earlier had faded. Lance cradled his head close to his chest, his hands so unbelievably soft. Keith sighed as a blurry sense of warmth filled him at the first pleasant touch he has had in hours. His eyes turned leaden as his mouth tried to pronounce Lance’s name.

“Don’t fall asleep, Keith. Come on, stay awake for me,” Lance sounded more and more frantic now, his fingers biting into Keith’s biceps as he tried to get him to focus on him. It was moderately working, Keith blinked up at him but his gaze didn’t clear, his eyes didn’t focus.

Lance, I’m so tired,” he mumbled, slurring as if drunk, “Why won’t you let me sleep? His face twisted in pain as Lance slowly manoeuvred him upright to see where one of the blades had pierced him. His side was on fire when Lance pressed his hands onto the wound.

“HUNK!” Lance called out when Keith grunted in pain, his face scrunching up in agony. Lance should focus on his surroundings right now, the fire had ceased but mercenaries could appear at any second now. He couldn’t put Keith in danger like that. Keith tried telling him that but the words caught onto his tongue and teeth and refused to come out properly.

“Keith! Buddy, Keith, stay with me. Please stay with me. Just keep your eyes open. For me alright? Can you do that for me?” Lance tears fell onto Keith’s face and ran down his cheeks as if they were his own. 

“Yes…,” he slurred out his eyelids drooping but opening again, “Everything for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance cradled his head closer to his chest when Hunk came sprinting over one of the dunes.

He almost collapsed next to Lance his face painted red both by exhaustion and blood that was already drying. He unrolled his first aid kit and began assessing the damage.

“Is he awake?” Hunk’s voice shook and trembled when he began cutting the bandages.

“Yes, though I don’t know for how long.” The bandages were way to thin, they could never stop bleeding of that size. Hunk carefully lifted Keith’s leg and began wrapping the bandage around it. 

Keith punched out an agonised moan when Hunk pulled on the bandage until it was tight enough. Lance swallowed the tense reprimand rising on his tongue and softly caressed Keith’s hair, mumbling sweet nothings to calm him.

_ “Hunk, Keith Lance! Where are you?!” Shiro’s  _ panicked voice rang through the comms. 

“We're already outside the Mountain, we should be relatively safe for now but Keith is─ ” His voice caught on his lips like a sleeve on a door handle. “Keith is gravely injured. He’s bleeding all over the place.”

Lance practically heard panic seizing Shiro's heart, wrapping its fingers around it and refusing to let go.

“ _ Pidge! Send the extraction code to the Castle. They need it more than us.” _ Ever their rational leader, always the one to take the biggest risk so the rest of the team didn’t have to.

“ _ No… Don't. _ ”Keith slurred into to the comms and Lance flinched violently. “Not gonna leave you.” Oh for God’s sake!

“Keith, we don’t have time for this. You’re bleeding out!” Pidge snapped hitting buttons.

“... avigate... blindly….,” Lance didn’t know how he got what he meant from that because Hunk sure didn’t, but somehow he did anyway.

“Pidge, Shiro will you be able to navigate your way out of the mountain safely?”

“Define safely,”

“ _ Oh, fu _ ─ Will you find your way out of there with us here to help you?”

“We don’t have a choice, Lance,” Pidge said with a hard voice, “ Extraction code sent, they should be there within minutes.”

Hunk looked up from where he was hunched over Keith’s torso. “Lance, take a shield with you and a bayard and walk as far away from the Mountain as you can.”

“And leave you here? Are you crazy?!”

“The castle can’t get too close to the Mountain without being detected. Now go!” He got up and pulled Keith with him.

Lance shot to his feet, “Hunk─ ” 

“Nope, not discussing this,  _ go _ !” He manoeuvred Lance into his place and took a few steps back. Lance sagged under Keith’s weight who was also protesting his treatment, albeit mumbled and slow.

“Will you be okay?”

“Go!”

“ _ Will you be okay?” _ Lance pinned him with a hard stare and refused to move as Hunk gestured towards the desert.

“I will, I promise. Now go!” Hunk almost pushed him and Keith towards the sand and then pulled his shield from the sands. Lance watched him shoulder his grenade launcher and walk over to the dune where he had hidden Axe and the slaves.

When he realised that Hunk wouldn’t turn back he looked down at Keith.

“You with me buddy?” Keith blinked up at him his eyes hazed over in pain and his face burning as if fever was adding itself to their misery total. Lance swallowed at the weak  _ ‘yes’  _ he got and began walking.

He wouldn’t let Keith down now.

* * *

Hunk desperately forced his hands calm, as he walked over to the group of slaves. 

“Everyone listen!” He yelled, even though his vocal cords were a just sigh away from being torn into shreds.

Rax walked up to him and didn’t stop until he was right in front of Hunk. He squared his shoulders and even when the sand beneath his feet began to give he looked like not even gods themselves could tear him down.

“What now?” He asked with a voice of steel. Responsibility crashed together over Hunk’s head like to waves in a stormy sea and the urge to run and to hide boiled up in him. But reality denied that wish before Hunk even got the chance to do so.

Rax opened his mouth again, but the sound was drowned out by a gunshot.

What happened then was unbelievable.

Axe appeared out of seemingly nowhere and tackled Rax, a foot taller and more than a stone heavier than them, down like it was nothing. Hunk shot around, already raising his bayard and answered the shot with one of his own.

The bullet hit the sand and the mercenary who had shot at Rax was completely thrown off the dune. Hunk kept an eye on where they had fallen but didn’t move.

The sharp sweeping contours of the castle appeared on the horizon like a saviour and Hunk thrust his hand towards it. “Everyone go, get there as soon as possible, I’ll stay here and make sure no one follows.”  


Rax and Shay got up and nodded at his words, both not even looking at Axe who hadn’t even gotten up yet. They exchanged a look with Hunk, their eyes as hard as steel and gathered their elders and their young ones, all of whom were stunned at the castle. 

“Stay safe,” Shay had turned around for the last time and shot him a look full of concern.  _ I don’t know if I can. _ His mind answered with what his lips wouldn’t let him say. Instead, he merely nodded and shouldered his grenade launcher in an attempt to seem calm and composed.

Hunk looked down to Axe who observed their conversation with keen eyes. Hunk activated his shield and crouched down to Axe’s level. “Axe!” Hunk said, his voice at the brink of giving out.

They lifted their hand and their light palm came off stained with blood. “I’m feeling absolutely dandy for being shot at. Thank you for asking” They muttered drily before groaning through clenched teeth. Hunk couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction at the sound.

But then he hesitated.

“Why did you push Rax away?” His hand rested on the kit but he didn’t move any further.

“Who?” Axe was playing dumb and failing at it too. 

“Big, buff islander that punched your face in.” Axe blinked at him like they still didn’t know who he was talking about, unbelievable how someone could be shot at and still find a way to be an utter and complete dick.

“Axe, answer the question.” Hunk’s voice lost any of the warmth it might’ve carried.

“I don’t know why okay? Now help me.” Even on the brink of death, they managed to sound like they were entitled to everything. Unbelievable.

Hunk’s fingers twitched where they laid on his first aid kit but didn’t make any other moves to actually do anything. There was a raging war wreaking havoc inside his mind but the walls of his body remained still, almost frozen.

One side of him, the one that felt like crying each time he saw someone wounded and helpless, that poured over medical books and manuals instead of sleep, that whispered  _ just in case _ to justify his self-destructive behaviour, wanted to drop everything to make sure they would be okay.

But then there was the other side of him, that was painted in the ink of his people and felt ghosts of the shackles his brothers and sisters had to wear under the mountain. The side that saw that beneath Axe’ own blood, shimmered the blood of innocents, of the small and the vulnerable.

“No, I won’t,” Hunk’s voice trembled, vibrating with the force of his thoughts clashing in his mind. 

He would regret not helping. Axe’s wide eyes and gaping mouth would haunt him to the depths of sleep and rise with him each morning. It would pull at the contours of what he would see in the mirror each morning until what he would see would raise disgust.

But it would still be better than the alternative.

Hunk threw them his first aid kit and schooled his expression completely blank. “Help yourself, or don’t. I don’t care”

With that he left them there, sitting in a pool of their own blood, clouded in a lie he had told to make himself feel better.

 

* * *

 

There was less screaming than he anticipated. There was really less of everything that he expected, fewer tears, less harsh words, hardly any words at all if he was being completely honest. Instead, there was an unsettling quiet that settled over them like a blanket. Although, it wasn’t really like a blanket. Blanket meant warmth, comfort and protection, this was everything but that. 

Dread settled over him when he saw the Princess and the freed slaves meet each other like to countries at war who had come to the negotiation table. Hunk took in the huddled, starved and bloodstained figures that, despite all of the violence they had seen today, refused to hunch over in exhaustion. Figures, that seemed to stand even taller  _ because  _ of all the violence they had seen that day.

“I welcome you to my ship. We will heal your sick and mend any wounds you have. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask, Coran and I will do everything within our realm of possibilities to help you.” The formal words caught on her lip like they as reluctant to leave her mouth as the Princess was to say them. They were intended to sound warm and friendly, that much Hunk could tell, but they came out stilted and wrong, like a note in a song played off-key.

“We do not want your help, Princess,” Shay had stepped forth and met the Princes at eye level, not like a subordinate. Hunk felt a wave of respect wash over him, as he observed the line of her spine that some many had pushed and torn at but that still refused to bend, still remained tall in clear defiance against all odds.

“We have asked for it once, in the foolish hope that you would follow the creed you have given your people. But a man who burns once won’t be burned again.” Hunk felt himself nodding before he even thought about it. Those were his people, his brothers and sisters, who had been thrust into misery and met nothing but their own echo when they cried out for help.

 

The Princess visibly deflated, like another stone of weight had been added to her shoulders and some the anger Hunk still carried within him from their argument the night before gave way to pity, as the harsh words looming in the farthest corners of his mind began to thin like thread-bare fabric.

She set their eyes to meet Shay’s but as they did, tears welled up in them. She opened her mouth but no words came out. It was as if her voice had abandoned her the same way the crown had abandoned his people. A wave of empathy overcame him but Hunk couldn't give in to it, not with his conscience actively being torn into two.

“I─ I…,” She caught herself, and the realisation of who she was now, and what she had to own up to, settled into the lines of her face, aged them by a decade all at once, “On behalf of the Altean Crown, I apologise for all the wrongs you have suffered under because of the Crown’s… no  _ our  _ decisions. We have abandoned you, we have betrayed you and there are no words in the world that could right the wrongs that have been done to your people because of us.” 

She let out a shuddering breath and clasped her shaking hands behind her back. 

“I do not ask for forgiveness, I do not deserve it. But I ask of you, please let us treat your wounds and heal your sick and your frail. Your people have suffered enough, please let us help you.”

Her voice was broken and battered and faded off even though there was much more to say. Much more should have been said. Hunk felt some part of him judging her for it too. This couldn’t possibly be the best she could come up with. They deserved better,  _ his people  _ deserved bet─ 

Shay walked back to the group of Islanders standing in the corner to discuss their answer. The question was too heavy to be born by one individual alone. Hunk, on the other hand, stood there alone while he squashed the bitter part of his mind that had never quite forgiven her, that would perhaps never quite forgive her. 

But he couldn’t let his past close his doors to the future, not when he finally got to choose which ones he wanted to open.

The murmuring of the Islanders died down and Shay took a step forward again. “We will accept the help you offer us, gratefully. But we require that we will be off board this ship as soon as we are in safety. We do not wish to be on this ship any moment longer than necessary.”

The Princess nodded her consent, she looked like she couldn’t bring herself to speak and was already turning when Shay began to speak again this time to … him?

“And you? What about you?” Hunk merely blinked at her, wide-eyed and confused. What about him? His mind worked as slow as the earth turned beneath his feet: Slow enough that it didn’t feel like it was working much at all.

“What about me?” Hunk managed to ask, though the words came out hasty and stilted. 

“You’re as much of an Islander as we are. You’re one of us. If we were to leave, and we are, would you come with us?” Shay met his eyes with a warm gaze but Hunk felt nausea rise in his core, as goosebumps shot across his skin.

His mind was blank, not a single thought forming until the exact opposite happened. A dam broke and his thoughts and fears crammed themselves in his mind, foolishly thinking there would be space for all of them.

“I─ er─ “ He tried to force his thoughts, as fleeting as air itself, into solidity but they evaded his grip. So when he opened his mouth, he had nothing to say. He leaned back against the wall behind him and fought to resist the urge to sink down to his knees. 

Hunk wouldn’t have doubted a few days ago. His past self would have made this decision before he had even taken a breath. So what changed? He changed, didn’t he?

The echoes of gunshots were still ringing in his bones and if he strained he could still feel the warmth of Lance’s embrace from the night before, one of the few seams holding the threadbare fabric of his mind together.

No, he wasn’t the same person who had walked into that mountain.

“I─ I don’t think I can leave them here.” And truly he couldn’t. They needed him as much as he needed them. They were a patchwork, a collection of odd trinkets, all a little bent and a little dented, but somehow fit together.

“No, I can’t just abandon them,” he repeated when Shay remained silent and other Islanders, even Rax, stared at him in disbelief.

“They have abandoned us before, you can hardly speak of injustice here.” One of the elders, her face hardened by old atrocities she had witnessed, and torn open by the new ones she had faced today, crossed her arms and stared at him.

“You can’t possibly think about abandoning your own people for those who have wronged them.” She flung the same accusations at him that his mind had already chewed through. There was nothing new to be found in pain that had already caused him numerous sleepless nights.

“You above all should know how much we, as a people, value loyalty. I won’t abandon my friends,  _ my family, _ and let them face the terrors of war alone. I won’t!” Hunk snapped. Some part of him, the part that still remembered his old customs and manners that had been instilled into him, flinched at his tone of voice. But there was too much blood clinging to his skin for him to listen to it now.

“I helped you out of the mountain. You can’t ask more of me to do.” Hunk took a deep breath and forced the pain in his heart at bay. He didn’t find any satisfaction in harsh words and sharp voices. They were nothing more than an additional type of pain he would have to endure that day.

And frankly, he’s had enough of those for the day. “Now if you’d excuse me, I’ll be resting for a bit.” He forced all harsh feelings out of his way into a dark corner of his being and bolted the door that led to his heart shut. He wouldn’t deal with that now.

He walked past Shay and even though he felt her eyes digging themselves a way into his skull he couldn’t muster the strength to face her, he’d crumble like a house of cards. He dragged himself out of the room and forced his mind blank when his worries came to haunt him.

 

* * *

Each little hiss, each little groan was like another reason why this was his fault. Lance watched Keith grit his teeth as Coran began slathering him in different Altean salves. Their chemical smell filled the infirmary and burned inside his nostrils.

Lance’s eyes fell to Keith’s arm that laid limp on the white sheets. He forced himself not to dwell on the fact that Keith’s skin had paled enough that there was no difference between him and the sheets anymore. It was hard but he didn’t. Dwell on it, that was. He took the thought and filed it away for later when the rest of his brain would rise to yell at him for endangering Keith like that.

Instead, his eyes caught onto Keith’s open palm that looked like an invitation and pulled at Lance like a siren’s song. Lance didn’t have any bee’s wax, so balling his fist and averting his eyes would have to be enough for now.

“Will he make it, Coran?” A joke so destined to crash that it burned from the start. 

“Of course he will! You’re a fine strong lad, aren’t you, Keith?” Coran grinned down at Keith and overall seemed way to energetic for  _ anything, _ really. But Keith had apparently decided to humour him because he lifted the corners of his mouth and nodded, the movement tiny and slow.

It was enough for Coran though because he got up and clapped twice. “This should be it for now at least until the cryopod is free.” One of the freed slaves that had collapsed after they had arrived at the castle’s doorstep was currently occupying it and even though Lance knew he shouldn’t ─  _ bad karma and all that jazz ─  _  he felt like pulling them out of there himself if it meant that Keith would be okay.

“You take it from here Lance?” Coran packed up his medical equipment and shouldered the leather bag he kept all of his utensils in.

“Of course! I will be the best nurse Mullet here has ever seen!” He silenced the tiny part of his brain telling him owed him after Keith had to face all of that for him and pulled on bravado even more grand than usual.

“Are you sure about that?” Keith lifted one of the corners of his mouth and teasingly blinked up at him through his bangs. Lance’s heart cracked a little bit but he forced it back together.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Coran bid his farewell and left them in the infirmary. For a second Lance wanted nothing more than to follow him but the words already forming on his tongue forced to remain where he was.

“Thank you… for saving my life.” Lance swallowed to ease the tightness in his throat and began fiddling with the hem of his jacket that he had pulled on top of his blood-stained shirt. His head shot up when Keith hissed through clenched teeth. 

“Don’t move are you crazy?!” Lance shot forward and put his hands on Keith’s shoulders, ready to firmly but gently force him back into the sheets.

“Don’t yell. Help me!” Keith ground out panting and Lance helped him turn towards him. Lance took way his hands, as the red of Keith’s cheeks slowly but surely bled away and had already accepted the fact that his gratitude would remain unacknowledged. 

“That makes us even now,” Keith muttered looking up at him. His eyes hadn’t cleared completely pain still shone in them and covered them in a hazy curtain. But the stunned Lance all the same.

He raised his eyebrows in confusion and Keith elaborated. “Back in Sorans.”

Lance made a dismissive hand gesture. “That was nothing compared to this. You took a bullet for me!” His yell had formed before he even realised but Keith didn’t flinch. He held onto his gaze with the stubbornness of a child and Lance sighed, sinking down into the chair next to the bed.

“And you shot down more mercenaries I can count,” He looked up at Lance without a shred of doubt in his eyes and Lance felt like tearing his hair out.

“Okay fine! We’re even. Let’s goddamn stay even. My poor heart can’t take any more of this” Lance sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. The specks of blood were already bad enough on his skin touching it wouldn’t ruin it now.

“You were worried?” Keith curiously angled his head and Lance felt like banging his head against the wall.

“Was I wor─?  _ You bled on my pants!” _ he threw his hands up in the air and shot him a disbelieving look.

“I was shot in the thigh. No one dies from that!” Keith made what seemed like an attempt at crossing his arms, hissed in pain and dropped them again.

“You were still shot, idiot!” They were both taken aback by the force behind his words. Lance curled and uncurled his fists, guilt rising in his chest when he saw Keith’s demeanour close off like the petals of a flower curling inwards to protect its core.

“I’m sorry,” Keith murmured his eyes set on some stain on Lance’s pants, ”I guess I’m just not used to it.” Lance wanted to reach out and … what actually? Mumble reassurances? Convince him that nothing here was his fault? Extinguish the premise of tears in his eyes?

“Used to people worrying about you?” That thought alone broke Lance’s heart. Keith had been alone for so long that he forgot that loneliness wasn’t the default. That drying his tears on his own and forcing himself off the ground without getting help wasn’t the only way to go. Keith had learned to walk with a limp and now that someone offered him a walking stick he didn’t know how to use it.

Keith shrugged, his face purposefully blank, but Lance saw behind his facade, saw the invisible scars loneliness had left on him. “I guess.” 

“Wel,l then you better get used to it,” Lance painstakingly kept his voice chipper, framed the act as insignificant as possible. Keith should take it as a small gesture, not some grand declaration. “I’m not stopping anytime soon, buddy.” Lance shot him a grin like they had just established an inside joke and Keith smirked right back like he had gotten it too.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” The hints of forced blankness bled away, as calm contentment took over Keith’s features and the tension seeped out his shoulders. The changes were minuscule, invisible to those who weren’t as intent on reading Keith like their favourite book, as Lance was and for once he felt like he had finally gotten something right.

He let that feeling settle and blossom inside his chest, cherished it while it lasted before he spoke what had continued to loom over his shoulders like fate, certain and inevitable.

“I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Keith shook the bangs out of his eyes and Lance fingers twitched before he could reel them back under his control.

“For that.” Lance thrust his chin the direction of Keith’s bandaged thigh and flinched when Keith scoffed.

“You didn’t shoot me, Lance. It isn’t your fault!” Keith snapped and Lance flinched. Keith met his eyes with a determined stare and for a moment Lance thought he would try to sit up again. But he didn’t need to do that to pin Lance down with his eyes.

“If I did my job better no one would’ve shot you. You were right I really shouldn’t have done this. All of it.” Lance’s shoulders slumped in defeat and the doubt that had been tormenting him for hours rose to a booming roar inside his head almost drowning out Keith when he answered.

“You got us intel! Crucial intel!” Keith rasped out, leaning upon his left arm, the movement slow and pained, and shot him a hard glare.

“At what cost?” Lance clouded his self-deprecation in the illusion of a laugh. The illusion was spotty at best, he saw through it like a thin fabric and Keith, apparently, did too.

He angled his head until his eyes met Lance’s again. Escape wasn’t possible. So  Lance forced himself to maintain eye contact and his mind turned on him. It conjured up images of Keith’s hazy eyes blinking up at him, the feeling of his fading pulse beneath his fingertips, red staining the palms of his hands and death looming over his conscience. The line between his imagination and reality blurred, his grip on the real world loosened. 

He let out a small gasp when a warm hand pulled him from the brink. His senses collided into him and crammed themselves inside his head like all of them would fit at once.

“Lance, it’s fine,” Keith spoke slowly as if Lance was an animal on the precipice of panic. Though in some ways he was. His heart was hammering against his ribcage as he desperately tried to sort out what was real and what wasn’t. 

“You did your best, there’s nothing more anyone can ask of you.” He squeezed Lance hand and Lance clung to the sensation like a lifeline. He wanted to believe him, even when shreds upon shreds of doubt rose in his mind, already arguing against it. Keith was still dosey. Of course, he would say that Keith wasn’t one to kick a horse when it was already down. There was no use in interpreting pity.

Lance heard those thoughts and agreed with them too. But he pushed them aside when he felt his sanity slip from his grip when every last bit of his composure threatened to leave him. 

“I still apologise,” His voice already brightened while the rest of him didn’t.

“And I’m telling you, you don’t have to.” Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t release Lance's hand. Quite the opposite, he tightened his grip when he felt Lance's hand slip. 

Lance nodded. He had lied to an entire room full of hardened criminals, had stared down the barrel of a gun and stuck to his story. He could lie to himself if he had to. His smile came back to him while the sadness in his chest worsened, while the guilt on his shoulders grew heavier and heavier.

“I’ll still feel sorry though,” he squeezed his voice into the mould of playful and Keith’s roll of his eyes told him that it worked. Keith sank back into the pillows and pushed out a hard breath. His brows furrowed together in pain and Lance saw how his composure he had called upon to calm Lance, melted off his face like a liquid wax.

“Is there anything I can do? To help you or something?” Lance leaned forward and gripped Keith’s hand tighter. He had at some point stopped noticing that he was still holding it. It felt just another one of these things his body did without having to think about it. He didn’t startle at every breath that he took and this didn't feel much different.

Keith just looked at him, wide-eyed and startled, but didn’t answer. Lance’s franticness, that he had tried to banish still persisted like a parasite and bled into his voice that streaked Keith’s ears red when he heard it.

“Or do you need me to leave? So that you can rest properly.” His bones were thrumming with a sort of breathless urgency. He had to do something,  _ anything  _ to make it better. He couldn’t be useless, he  _ couldn’t _ ─ 

“ _ No!” _ They both flinched at the force behind Keith’s answer. Keith awkwardly cleared his throat, “Uh, I mean… You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” In some other timeline, Lance might have laughed at his slightly constipated expression.

“Then I won’t,” Lance answered as if this whole thing was as simple as that. He didn’t want to leave Keith alone in the infirmary and so he didn’t. The rest wasn’t something he would think about now. That was the part where his train of thought took a detour, looped in a downward spiral deeper and deeper and that wasn’t something he could deal with now.

He let out a small, relieved sigh. He wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse to stay with Keith. Yes,  _ excuse _ , he could hardly tell him the truth, could he? There was no world in which he could tell him that he could still feel his fading heartbeat beneath his fingertips and that his mind would start playing sinister tricks on him the moment he dared to look away from the rise and fall of his chest.

“Good,” Keith mumbled those words and set his eyes to the ceiling. Lance squinted at him. Was that ─? No, it couldn’t be. He narrowed his eyes. But it was! A blush. Right there, on Keith’s cheeks, a faint splash of pink.

Lance smiled, even as he felt the same kind of heat rise in his own cheeks. 

They sat next to each other in silence for a while, fingers still intertwined. But then Keith turned to face him, eyes narrowed, brows pulled together, lips pursed. 

“What?” Lance raised an eyebrow at Keith’s scrutiny. Keith chewed on his lip for a moment and Lance leaned forward. 

“Where did you learn to act like that?” Keith looked up at him with curiosity, his purple eyes, wide and open. It was a look so unusual that Lance didn’t know what to say for a moment.

“I was an actor before, touring the country, doin’ shows, all that jazz.” Lance made a dismissive hand gesture brushing all of it aside. It wasn’t that big of a deal, really, his siblings were doing much more than him, Rosianna and Arden did up to six acts a night. Three wasn’t anything worth mentioning in comparison.

But Keith caught the brushed-off piece of information that came flying towards him. He closed his fist around it and held onto it. “Did you learn acting by yourself?”

He tried to angle his head so that he could look at him and scrunched up his face when he couldn’t. Keith took a deep breath, placed his hands flat to the mattress and pushed himself upright. Or at least tried to.

“Keith, again?!” You’ll tear your stitches! Stop─ Keith!” Lance shot forward and gripped Keith’s shoulders. 

“Stop yelling and help me!” Keith forced out through gritted teeth, the veins at his neck bulging. “God, you’re stupid,” Lance muttered but he adjusted his grip and slowly pulled him upwards. His own muscles were aching and screaming from exhaustion. It took a miracle and a half not to just drop Keith but they succeeded, the process was painful and about as elegant as an elephant but they succeeded. 

Lance collapsed back into his chair and wiped little bits of sweat of his brow before Keith could see them. He shouldn’t get that winded up supporting his weight, he really shouldn’t. 

”Happy now?” He snarked without any bite in his voice.

Keith just as red-faced and panting as he was raised his brow, eyes alight with a challenge. “Tired McClain?”

“From carrying a twig like you? Not at all.” Lance shot him a cocky grin and lifted his arm for emphasis. While he had filled out during his time in the castle, he still had noodle biceps and both of them knew that.

Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. Instead, the same glint from earlier returned to his face and changed it, as rapidly as the tides. “You didn’t answer my question. Who taught you to act like that?”

Lance kneaded his hands in his lap as he answered, tendrils of his memories ghosting across shoulders, shoulders that have been carrying too much for too long. “I taught it myself. My siblings and I used to have this game where we would run around the house, or the tents if we were on tour, impersonating each other and I liked it. A lot”

“So you just kept doing it?”

“I kept doing it, yeah.” Lance nodded as the tendrils on his shoulder began to solidify, to take on actual weight. He had for once found something he was decent at, something that came to him, a skill he didn’t have to fight for. He would have moved heaven and hell before he’d let it go.

“It’s good,” Keith just mumbled, his voice suddenly slurred and slow, “that you kept doing it. You’re so good at it now.” Keith had closed his eyes and Lance thanked the gods for that. Keith had said those words like they were nothing, a mere observation without meaning. One simple compliment shouldn’t be enough to completely unhinge him, words shouldn’t carry enough meaning to make him come undone at the seams.

And yet, they were. They painted his cheeks a stark red, stole his breath and took his voice right with them too.

* * *

 

 

There was a knock on the door and Keith rose from the depths of sleep. Lance next to him rasped out an answer and the opening of the door revealed the rest of their team, even Shiro who had been avoiding him for what seemed like forever.

“We wanted to check up on you,” The Princess said softly as they entered and arranged themselves around the bed. Lance almost instinctively got up to free the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. Keith pretended to not like it as much as he did but he was no match to the tingle that erupted across his skin like a force of nature. 

Keith didn’t even flinch at the sudden closeness between Lance and him, even after the rustling of the team arranging themselves around the bed pulled him back from the brink of sleep.

“I’m fine,” he said to the Princess. “I _ will _ be fine,” he added when he felt what was not only her disbelieving frown but also the rest of the team’s.

“Don’t do something like that again, right?” Pidge pinned him with a hard glare, but the tears swam in her eyes

The same fuzzy feeling from earlier appeared as Keith saw the worry written in the lines of her face. Someone was actually worrying about him. The thought felt like a shoe not yet broken in, something he would have to revisit again and again before it would feel normal.

Keith merely nodded, too stunned by the revelation to do anything else, and in unison, the entire team, even Lance, let out a breath of relief.

“You really scared us, man.” Hunk tried himself at a smile but it didn’t really work.

Keith didn’t know how to answer. The feeling in his mind foreign and unknown. He imagined it like a physical substance and stared at it. He kept staring at it until the jumbled mess in his mind arranged itself into a clear revelation, something so obvious that he felt foolish that he hadn’t realised it sooner.

This, these six people who were a little bent, crooked and broken, covered in dust and debris and blood, were his home. A place he could always return to.

“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbled and almost inhaled his tongue as Lance shoved at his shoulder.

“Not your fault dummy!” There was so much warmth in his eyes and in his smile that Keith felt something open inside his chest. It creaked like an old door and Keith knew that what would greet him outside would be the same warmth and fondness he had seen in Lance’s eyes, Pidge’s worry and the smiles the rest of the team were shooting him now.

The princess reached out and put her hand on his arm and Keith shot her a small smile that she answered in kind.

Keith took a step towards the warmth waiting for him only for that image to vanish like a badly drawn fantasy.

Allura had turned his wrist in her grip and was now staring at the same purple splotches Pidge had stared at the night before. “Keith, since when have these been there?”

Keith’s heart dropped when he saw the suspicion in her eyes. His voice threatened to fail him when he tried to answer. Her face was a mirror image of the expression Pidge had worn when she first saw them and Keith made sure to keep them hidden from then on. Even if he didn’t know what the splotches meant.

“I─ I don’t know,” Keith stammered. He flinched when Lance put his hand down on his shoulder to calm him.

“Coran, take a look at this. Is this─?” The Princess trailed off and panic spiked in of Keith’s mind. The rest of the team had fallen silent there eyes set to the purple splotches on his arm that were way too vibrant to even remotely resemble bruising.

“Coran leaned down to his arm, twirling his moustache when he straightened again. “Keith, what do you know about your parents?” That same goddamn question again.

Keith swallowed down the despair that had begun to take over his mind and answered the same way he always did. “My dad died when I was little and I never knew my mom.”

But the reaction was different. Instead of awkward silence, condolences wrapped up in pity there was an exchange of knowing looks and something that looked like… hesitation.

“Allura…,” Shiro began to speak, his voice tense, “What do those splotches mean?” Keith couldn’t help the gratitude that flooded him when Shiro spoke the question so desperately trying break through the barrier in Keith’s throat.

“These aren’t splotches, they are markings, similar to mine.” She pointed towards the pink triangles on her cheeks when Hunk gasped, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

“What do they mean?” Keith snapped, growing irritated at being left in the dark but the Princess merely stared at him. Lance tightened his grip on his shoulder when he began to tremble and for a moment he was all that kept him from losing his mind.

“You’re Galra, Keith.”

And his world broke clean in half.

Everyone knew that Galrans also bore markings, but no one knew how they looked like. Keith stared down to the uneven purple splotches like someone had dripped paint onto his arm.

_ Galra. _ He flinched at the thought.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice travelled through cotton before it reached his ears. “Keith, buddy are you with us?”

“Leave.” His voice didn’t carry any harshness, or strength at all really. It bore the markings of exhaustion and was less like a demand and more like a plea. His team hesitated for a second but one by one all of them got up and left the room.

Lance was the last one that got up. When he reached the door of the infirmary he hesitated. “Are you sure, Keith? You don’t─”

“Please,” Keith interrupted him and it cost him his entire energy and then some. Lance’s shoulders slumped, “Fine.” 

The door slid shut behind him and just like that Keith was like he had always been.

Alone.

 

* * *

 

 

SOMETIME SOMEWHERE ELSE

He pulled the hood deeper in his face when he passed the guards. The bruising around his eye pounded in time with his rapid heartbeat but the pain had long stopped being relevant. It hadn’t stopped, not by a long shot, but he had decided that he wouldn’t think about it anymore. That would make it go away sooner.

Crown Prince Lotor came to a halt in front of a pair of massive doors inside the Altean Castle. The hum of quintessence around him surged as he gathered all of his courage, straightened his posture and knocked.

A deep, resonating voice told him to come in and he took a deep breath. The massive doors swung open and Lotor entered. He figured he must have looked rather weird. A hooded twelve-year-old half breed so far from home.

He jumped as the doors slammed shut behind him but he didn’t allow himself to stop walking. When he arrived at the foot of the daïs that carried the thrones, he bowed in a deep sign of respect. Just like his governess had taught him.

“Prince Lotor,” King Alfor, as tall as a tree, nodded down at him and began to slowly caress his white beard, “What brings you here?” 

Lotor swallowed as his head was suddenly empty and began to shake. “It’s okay, little one. We won’t do you any harm.” Queen Enelle smiled down at him and spoke slowly to calm him. 

“I have come to seek asylum,” His voice shook and trembled, wavered and broke but he straightened his back and put on a determined look. The king and the queen looked down at him, obviously shocked.

“And what,” The King cleared his throat, “has brought you to this request?” Of course, they would ask, his governess had warned him. But no caution in the world could’ve prepared him for the swift abandonment that words did to his mind.

“It’s… it’s my father, “he murmured his answer, scared that even though his father was half a country away, his words would carry and that the punishment he would receive for them would haunt him in his dreams. 

“Emperor Zarkon?” The queen asked, her dark brown brows furrowed. Even though she was confused and intrigued, her posture didn’t shift, she didn’t lean forward in a way Lotor always did that got him smacks from his governess’ riding crop.

“I… he, “ He couldn’t bear to speak the words, to speak what he already knew into existence and make it fact, “he hurts me. Badly.” He sounded nothing more like a frightened child, nowhere near as strong that he had thought he would sound. He had endured his father for so many years he must have gotten stronger at least. But no, here he was, nothing more than a scared half breed.

“Is that true?” King Alfor stared at him in disbelief and Lotor didn’t blame him. His father ─ it pained him to refer to him as such ─ and King Alfor had long been friends. Lotor should have known that he wouldn’t believe him 

“What do you want now?” The Queen spoke slowly, carefully weighing the words be before they were said. 

“I don’t want to go back.” There. He said it and it felt like someone had lifted an entire sun off his chest. His entire insides crumpled at the thought that he would have to go back inside the Room.

For an agonisingly long moment, neither of the regents answered and Lotor felt as if he was about to crumble right then and there like a dry leaf. Exhaustion was screaming in his mind. He was tired. Tired of tiptoeing around his father in hopes that for once he wouldn’t enrage him. Only to be punished regardless because his mere existence was reason enough.

_ You deserve punishment. _ That and similar thoughts manifested in his mind like poison and slowly killed him right where he stood.

“I fear, I cannot help you, young Prince.” The King spoke with the same voice one used to tell someone that their close relative died. Only to Loto,r it felt like the whole world had died and left him to wait out misery on his own.

“But why?!” Lotor blurted out, tears already forming in his eyes. He balled his hands into fists and bit his tongue to keep himself from saying more.

“It would create a war. Your father would send thousands and thousands of men to rescue you, thinking we had abducted you and were holding you against your will.”

“But…But I don’t want to go back!”  I─ I─ “ His voice failed him.

“I’m deeply sorry, Prince Lotor, but we can’t help you.” Queen Enelle shot him a look full of sorrow but Lotor was too filled by his own pain to account for anyone else. They were sending him back, back ─ he couldn’t even call it home ─ to a place where there was nothing but pain waiting for him.

“We can’t help you, young Prince.” The King shook his head and motioned for the guards to open the door. Prince Lotor flinched at there sound and his tears dripped down his cheeks. He was being abandoned. He had cried for help, been heard and denied.

He turned around and left the royal hall. The heavy doors banged shut behind him and he returned to the ship he had used to come. He sat down in the front but remained motionless as realisation settled in. 

He had been sent away.

The thought shattered his heart and its shards buried themselves in the space between his ribs, where they would fester and continue to hurt for years to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Congrats! If you liked it (or even if you didn't) bls leave me a comment (they really do make my day).
> 
> But yeah, I can't really tell when you'll hear from me again. (School is lowkey kicking my ass) But in the meantime feel free to check out my twitter: @cxnfiscated


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,, uh it's been a minute. (or two, or fifteen) but i'M BACK! and i bring a monster of a chapter. a lot happens here so, uh yeah that took awhile.
> 
> a quick recap abt what happened so far:  
> the team escaped the mountain, their important intel in tow, they freed the islanders and lost Axe on the mission. Keith found out about his Galran heritage and an ominous flashback gave us a glimpse into the past.

His life was a door unhinged and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Even his  _ stupid _ leg, after the cryopod and days of recovery, refused to function properly. Beads of sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose as Keith grit his teeth and began to slowly bend his knee the way Coran had told him to do. 

His harsh panting filled the training deck and the pain was excruciating. Keith spat out a curse when his leg collapsed under his weight and he fell forward. His head collided with the mat that really didn’t do its job. 

 

Keith groaned and cradled his leg close to his chest. The pain didn’t lessen even though the strain was long gone. His brain caught up with what was happening to him and cashed in on his suffering to make it worse. As the pain in his knee faded, disappointment and self-loathing rose in his mind.

_ You should be able to do this. It isn’t that hard,  _ that thought and worse ones were salt rubbed on his already raw mental state. 

 

Coran had told him that he should find a partner to do the exercises with, that there should be someone to catch him if he were to fall. But Keith wouldn’t get himself a partner. He had never needed a hand to get back up again and he wouldn’t start now. Also, a smaller much more vicious part of his mind supplied, his friends didn’t need to spend more time with him than necessary. Not when he was like that. 

 

Keith glanced down at the bandages on his forearms. The splotches on his arms had spread like a rash and Keith had done whatever he could to keep them hidden. Late at night he had forced himself out of his infirmary bed and limped his way over to the cupboard where Coran kept his bandages. It had been too dark but Keith didn’t possess the energy to walk over to the light switch so he would have to do it blindly. He felt his way to a pair of scissors and some bandages and messily wrapped up his entire forearm. His technique was sloppy at best it served its purpose. 

 

_ Splotches––  _ his train of thought screeched to a halt. He wouldn’t call them markings, he  _ wouldn’t.  _ Wouldn’t call the demon by its proper name, wouldn’t pay respect to something that was giving him nothing but pain.

But now that Keith didn’t have to look them it anymore so he could pretend that they weren’t a problem.

That of course, didn’t work. He didn’t exist in a vacuum anymore, he wasn’t the only one affected by himself. No. Instead, everything he did was like a drop in a lake and no matter what, the ripples wouldn’t cease to exist just because he wanted them to.

 

Keith clenched his teeth and he slowly began to bend his knee again.

 

A bright hot spark of pain exploded under his knee cap and thigh as his leg buckled beneath him. Keith went down swinging and cursing. His hands were too slow in trying to catch him and before he knew what was happening, his head collided with the mat.

 

He fought his way onto his back, groaning and panting. The pulsing in his legs began to die down. He closed his eyes and pressed the balls of his hands against them. This was the sixth time. The  _ sixth goddamn time  _ that he had fallen in the last hour. Just because his stupid leg and his stupid knee couldn’t figure out how they were supposed to work.

Tears began to burn behind his eyes but he angrily blinked them away. He didn’t have time for them now. The weird mix of anger and sadness sitting in his chest would have to wait now. He pushed it down and out of sight. But it didn’t work.

He sighed and wiped at his cheeks. Keith forced himself upright but when he was sitting all he wanted to do was to lay back down again. Every fibre of his being conspired against him and refused to budge.

Time lost all meaning while he sat there. On the ground, alone with no one there to help him up. This was ridiculous. He had done this numerous times. He fought alone and he fell alone too. He had never needed someone to help him up and he sure as hell wasn’t starting now. Keith clenched his jaw and fought himself upwards until he was standing. His legs were shaking, his entire world was tilted on its axis and pounded in time with his heartbeat, but he was standing.

 

He widened his stance just how Coran had told him earlier and began to run through the motions again.  _ Right foot forward. Bend. Lean forward. Lean backwards. Right foot back. Left foot forward─  _

 

His mind began to wander as it had done before but now, pain shot out like the hook of a harpoon, embedding itself deeply and yanking him back in every time. And Keith welcomed it, too. Embraced it even. Because there was no greater torture than his own mind. It was like a nightmare, all of his greatest fears and oldest wounds looming behind every corner just to taunt him. 

The shift in the Princess’ eyes every time she looked at him now, Pidge’s gaze back inside the Mountain, when she had first discovered the splotches –– she had known back then already, she must have known. The way Hunk refrained from hugging him, even more than he usually did, the hesitation written all over his features. 

But the worst of them all was Lance. Lance who never shied away from him, who saw him straighten his posture and rose up to match it, who saw him spar and didn’t even ask whether he could join him. They both already knew the answer. Lance who was bright and vibrant and so,  _ so _ much more. 

Until he suddenly wasn’t anymore.

His voice now was hushed and slow and weighed. He watched Keith carefully as if he were a wild animal that could lash out at any moment and he didn’t even seem surprised when Keith  _ did _ lash out. There was no reaction at all. No teasing glint, no test of seeing how far he could push Keith before he had to retreat. None of that. He just tensed his jaw for a split second, thinking that Keith wouldn’t see, and made up an excuse to leave.

 

Keith’s head shot up at the sound of the opening door and his knee wobbled dangerously. He caught himself –– barely, yes –– but he caught himself. It didn’t make falling those dozen times earlier sting any less, though. 

 

“What do you want?” He shook his bangs out of his eyes and shot Lance a wary look. He didn’t have the energy to deal with him now, not with  _ this _ version of him anyway.

“I was checking in to see how you’re holding up.” That dumb soft tone again, like he had to be careful, like Keith was some damned glass doll that would shatter if he raised his voice. 

“Fine, as you can see.” His voice was harsh even to his ears. But still, Lance didn’t react. Keith was looking at the same kind of Lance he had seen under the mountain. Without the bravado and without the arrogance, but a facade nonetheless. The same mirror-smooth surface his hands would slip on without leaving an imprint. It made his blood boil.

“Do you need any help?” Lance’s eyes went down to the bandage around his thigh and for the blink of an eye, his mind was a thousand miles away. Somehow that enraged Keith even further.

“Not from you.” He threw the insult out before he could even think about it and it hit Lance square in the face. His eyes narrowed. But within the fraction of a second Lance caught himself again, his expression schooled and his voice almost forcefully even.

“The shake in your leg tells me otherwise.” He raised an eyebrow but his gaze still didn’t darken how it usually did when Keith managed to anger him, to  _ really _ anger him.  _ This  _ Lance was nothing compared to the Lance that had stormed into his bedroom a few weeks ago, who seemed angry enough to tear the world apart and walk away like it had been a mere warm up.

Lance was muting his anger, suppressing it, and that above all else enraged Keith the most.

“Last time I checked, legs couldn’t talk so listen to what  _ I’m _ saying: I’m fine,” he bit out the words between clenched teeth.

“You’ve also been telling me that I wouldn’t walk out of the mountain alive, so please cut me some slack if I don’t immediately believe you.” His voice was as sharp as a knife and embedded itself deeply inside Keith's chest.

He faltered for a second, reeling from the unexpected harshness. He had grown so used to the fire Lance began spitting at him when he was angry that he had forgotten that ice could be much more unforgiving. That ice could hurt so much more.

 

“ _ I’m fine.  _ I don’t need your help.” Keith winced when he rose to his full height but still crossed his arms in front of his chest and defiantly raised his chin. He wouldn’t let Lance baby him, wouldn’t let him coddle him. He wasn’t weak.

“Keith─” Lance’s voice softened all of the ice in it vanishing like he had just reminded himself that it didn’t have a place here, that Keith couldn’t handle it.

“For fuck’s sake,  _ listen _ to me! I’m fine, Lance!” Keith thrust his hands into his hair as his voice rose to a yell. But he might as well could have shouted at a wall. His anger, his rage, his wrath he clung to so desperately––all of it fell onto deaf ears. Lance didn’t even flinch.

 

He came a step closer, hand already outstretched when he saw Keith dangerously wobble, but Keith just slapped it away. He thought he would feel satisfied at the sound the back of his hand produced when it collided with Lance’s but the universe––or whoever else was in charge––wouldn’t even grant him that pleasure.

“Keith, please let me help you.” Lance sounded desperate and something inside Keith burned, knowing that he was the cause of it, that he had forced this mask of sadness onto a face built for smiles and happiness. 

His posture sagged, shoulders curving, part of the tension leaving his body. And  _ boom _ ! There it was again. Pain exploded in his thigh when he put more weight on it. He swallowed the curse already waiting on his tongue. His hand flew to where the ghost of the bullet, that had pierced him still, haunted him. 

His eyes stubbornly went up to Lance’s. He still stood firm in his belief that if he didn’t acknowledge the pain, it would have to go away. But what he found in Lance’s eyes shredded any semblance of composure he might have had. Because right there. Among blues more vibrant than the sky and the sea combined was pity.

 

_ Goddamn. Pity. _

 

Keith wanted to reach out and strangle him. Wanted to reach up and strangle  _ himself _ , for God’s sake. He wanted to burst out off his skin and hide away inside of it. There was too much he wanted and too little he had for him to face this. To bear Lance’s pity without collapsing beneath it. 

So he rejected it.

“I don’t want your help! I don’t  _ need _ your help! I could be on the brink of death and I’d rather help myself than ask, so stop goddamn offering!” It was as if the walls were shaking alongside his voice.

 

Keith was still shaking as he watched the effect of his outburst unfold before his eyes. Lance’s face closed up like a door bolted shut with piece upon piece of furniture piled in front of it.

“Fine,” His voice trembled, the only sign that Keith’s words had cut deeper than Lance let show, “I’ll leave you to it then.” 

And with that, he turned on his heel and left. Keith stared after him and he kept staring, waiting for the twisted satisfaction to settle in, waiting for a sense of victory ─ because he had  _ won,  _ hadn’t he? But he waited in vain.

 

The only thing he got was hollow self-hatred and echoes of the pain in Lance’s voice ringing in his mind, over and over and over again.

 

* * *

 

Hunk was busy chopping some peculiar looking vegetable that Coran had given to him earlier when the kitchen doors slid open. His mind had been peaceful for once, so the interruption stung more than expected. He lifted his head and his eyebrows shot up when his eyes fell onto Princess Allura.

 

“Princess, how can I help you?” He fell into an overly formal, forcefully neutral tone like he always did when his mind didn’t know how to supply his mouth with the proper words. Her steps were almost completely swallowed by the sound of the pot boiling behind him. She sat down across the counter and leaned forward to glance at what he was doing.

“Where did you get  _ Burbarian Beetroot _ ?” She seemed visibly impressed like it was some grand achievement and not some mere vegetable that was a bit on the stinkier side and had an almost violently purple colour. Although, Hunk didn’t know anything about it, so maybe it was.

 

“Coran gave it to me.” He didn’t look at her, a habit born and raised in the aftermath of her confrontation with the Islanders. He didn’t know how to feel about her anymore, didn’t know whether to hate or to pity her and because that divide in his mind had started to tear his body apart he ignored it, as he did with all of his problems. And just like every other one of his problems, this one came back to haunt him.

“What can I do for you, Princess?” Hunk asked again as she fell silent at his answer and did nothing but stare at him working, something he did not appreciate. His eyes fell back down to where he was chopping the vegetable to make sure that he wouldn’t accidentally end up chopping off his finger.  That was a lie. Cooking was second nature to him, the perfect blend of muscle memory and practice. He hadn’t cut himself in ages.

But here he was, sailing down the river of denial and ignoring the fact that he was approaching a waterfall.

 

“I wanted to ask you something… and apologise!” she added hastily, her words much too forceful and too acidic to even remotely come across as natural. Hunk took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitably hard and tiring conversation they were about to have.

“Yes?” he asked, even though the rest of him was saying  _ no _ .

“Why did you stay?” That question wasn’t a stranger to him.  _ Oh no, _ it wasn’t. It was an annoying squatter that had taken up permanent residence inside of his mind, that kept banging pans and pots together and slamming doors to demand attention. 

 

“I mean you Islanders value community, don’t you? For you to have a community would be the best thing you could wish for?” The words sounded painfully stilted and Hunk didn’t believe them one bit. He had been lied to one too many times to believe that there was nothing but good behind everything.

 

He set down the knife on the counter, the gesture harsher than he intended. Both of them flinched at the sound. “What do you want Princess?” He dropped any semblance of false politeness and finally raised his head to meet her gaze. What he found were discomfort and nervousness. 

“I don’t kno─ “ Hunk sighed. He was way too tired for this. 

“Why are you asking these questions? I’m not abandoning your cause and that should be all that you need to know. I don’t owe you an explanation.” He pinned her with a glare as hard as his voice. He hadn’t forgiven her for the abandonment and perhaps never would forgive her. That sentiment took ahold of his voice, sharpened his words until they hurt.

 

She stammered but somehow couldn’t phrase an answer. It took Hunk a long moment until he finally saw it. There,  _ right there, _ written across her forehead and bleeding into her voice and body language was  _ guilt _ .

“Princess, are trying to send me away?” Hunk warily narrowed his eyes and leaned forward on his arms. The Princess’ eyes widened. “No, no absolutely not! I was just ─ “ Her royal upbringing seemingly caught up to her because he stopped and recomposed herself. When she spoke again, her voice was calm and quiet. “I’m just trying to make sure that you’re happy.”

“We’re at war.” There wouldn’t be any happiness for a long time. At least not for him.

She winced like he had just taken some of the salt standing in front of him and had started rubbing it into a raw wound that had just stopped bleeding.

 

“I just…” It looked like she lost her train of thought but then made herself catch onto the next one, “I just don’t want you to give up any happiness you could’ve had just to stay here.” She pushed out a breath like she had just ripped off the most painful bandaid, her skin still tingling and raw and honestly, Hunk felt the same.

“Why do you care?” His voice sounded smaller than it should, just as tired and burned out as he was, just a misstep away from collapsing and not getting up again.

 

_ “Because it’s my fault!” _ She exploded at him, eyes wild and manic, fist banging on the counter. She flinched even harder than he did at her sudden outburst and stumbled a step back.  “I─

uh–– I apologise for this. That was... inappropriate.” She cleared her throat and squeezed her anger into the coat of false poise, thinking it would fit now that a few seams had torn already.

“I just─ … You’ve suffered enough because of me. I don’t want to add to it,” She whispered her voice soft and streaked with exhaustion like war paint. 

 

“Princess, what is it that you’re trying to accomplish with this conversation? You don’t want me to leave and I’ve told you already that I’m not leaving. What’s your goal here?” Hunk closed his eyes and willed his breath calm. Anger wouldn’t help him now so he chased it away.

“I just don’t understand why. You go on and on about loyalty and community and now that you have the opportunity to be with people that could actually give that to you, that could actually be like a  _ family  _ for you, you turn them away?” She seemed on the brink of tears now and he would have felt pity. It this was actually about her. Instead, he grew aggravated.

 

“I can’t just abandon you. Can’t abandon Lance, Pidge Keith, Shiro, Coran and for God’s sake can’t even abandon  _ you _ of all people! Even though you make me want to.” Hunk thrust his hand into his curly hair that had hardened and clumped together with sweat. He didn’t even have the energy to properly be disgusted with himself right now.

“I have a duty you! So fucking believe me when I say Princess, I won’t leave. I would be worse off for leaving and I won’t abandon you.” He was heaving even though he hadn’t raised his voice. Keeping quiet was harder than tearing his vocal cords apart. 

 

The Princess sighed, a full body process, shoulders slumping, posture curving and the coat of poise, as ill-fitting as it had been, slipping off her shoulders entirely. “I’m sorry. I deeply and truly am. You have suffered so much at my hands and you didn’t deserve it.” She looked at him, her eyes filled to the brim with pain and for a moment it looked like she would reach out and touch him.

But she didn’t and Hunk didn’t know whether he was glad or if it made him feel worse. “I apologise too, Princess. You have faced great loss and had to face way too much way too soon. You too deserve a softer fate,” Hunk said and, to his surprise, he actually meant it. He felt deep pity and empathy resonating in his bones when he thought of the cards that fate had dealt her.

The part of him that still blamed her for the pain he had to endure scoffed at that, but as the two of them exchanged two equally poor excuses for a smile, both too watery to really be called anything, that part of him shrank and lost some of its hatred.

 

* * *

His steps were echoing through the castle as his mind desperately tried to convince itself that it wasn’t deeply hurt by Keith’s words and they didn’t have an impact on him. Because they hadn’t! It was just lone wolf Keith, choosing to go the hard way, even if there was literally a sign showing him an easier way.

 

Lance pulled his shoulders up to his ears and then abruptly pushed them the other direction, imagining himself like a marionette whose strings had just been pulled taut. Even though the mental imagery did help a bit, he still felt like he was just limply hanging instead of standing on his own two feet. Keith had managed to uproot the ground beneath his feet and create a hole wide enough for Lance trip and fall into like the foolish idiot he was.

 

His thoughts were so deeply drenched in bitterness that he could almost taste them in the back of his throat.

_ I don’t need your help!  _ That shouldn’t have stung as much as it did. Lance felt tears, inevitable but still incredibly childish and stupid, prick at the back of his eyes and he let them fall before he wiped them away

He should be used to rejection by now, should be used to harsh words and pain.  _ This shouldn’t bother me. _ And yet, it did. Because Lance was apparently made from sugar and Keith was the most unforgiving thunderstorm, his words of doubt and rejection completely decomposing Lance until there was nothing left of him to destroy.

 

“ _ Paladins, meet up in the control room. It is important,”  _ Coran’s voice had that hard edge to it, one that didn’t go with his usually chipper tone.

He didn’t even blink at Coran’s name for them.  _ Paladins.  _ It had arisen when the slaves had, as had to be expected, also responded to ‘everyone’ and began clogging up the control room each time the  _ ‘Paladins’ _ wanted to discuss their plans. Coran had just renamed them after that and it had stuck.

Because none of them had had the heart to tell Coran that they weren’t Paladins. They weren’t fighting for the Altean Crown. They fought to see another day, to see another sunrise.

And yet, none of them would’ve been able to bear the guilt of extinguishing Coran’s spark of enthusiasm. It had become a rarity. It fading would mean the war had won. 

So they wore the title  _ Paladins _ like a badge of honour even if it was only to see Coran’s little grin every time he got to say it. 

 

Lance silently slipped into the control room and appeared behind Hunk’s shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to make a grand and unnecessarily extravagant entrance like he usually did. Neither could he face the Princess’ scolding for his tardiness. Less than 5 hours of sleep and getting yelled at until you wanted to cry did that to someone.

So he stood silently behind Hunk and waited for either the Princess or Shiro to speak. Shiro didn’t make him wait very long. He turned towards Pidge who was balancing her laptop on her forearm that was still wrapped up in a bandage and had a few bloodstains peeking through. Lance frowned. She had told him that the wounds had stopped bleeding already and that they were already fading.

 

“Do you want to tell them what we found? I mean, it has mostly to do with you.” Shiro looked at her, eyebrows raised and voice soft. She waved her hand in a dismissive motion. “Honour’s all yours,” she answered, not even lifting her eyes off the screen.

“Honour. Yeah, sure,” Shiro muttered under his breath, in a tone so sarcastic that Lance thought he’s misheard him. Wow, that couldn’t be bright news then.

 

Shiro raised his voice to speak to all of them but was interrupted by the opening of the door and the heavy thud of Keith’s unbalanced steps. Empathy, as instinctive as breathing and just as foolish as the rest of the molotov cocktail that called itself Lance’s feelings, flared up in his chest. But he squashed it like the parasite it was. His heart would have to stop that and his empathy would have to find better targets.

Not that it was unwarranted, though. Beads of sweat shone almost aggressively on Keith’s forehead. His skin that was pale as though someone had taken a straw and sucked all of the colour right out of it. The red on his cheeks now seemed even angrier in comparison, flashing brightly like the warning of a danger sign.  _ Accurate,  _ Lance thought sourly. That sourness soon turned bitter while he watched him limp over the chair that had been set up between Shiro and Pidge.

Lance wanted to punch himself when he felt the anger he had felt at Keith’s words fade already. Don’t get him wrong, the pain still lingered, burning and spreading inside his body like a virus, but the anger that justified the poisonous words he conjured up in his mind and the persistent burn behind his eyelids, abandoned him, left him aching and hollow.

 

Shiro shot Keith a lingering look and sighed when Keith didn’t raise his head to meet it. “Pidge and I found this while we were in the data centre of the mountain.” Shiro moved his prosthetic hand and a three-dimensionally rendered hologram of a floor plan appeared in the middle of the room. 

It showed some kind of compound building, drawn in harsh blue lines, the same ones depicting Lance’s map from home. Rows upon rows of square rooms, floors upon floors of the same. Lance narrowed his eyes. Who designed a building that way? His brows furrowed even deeper as he watched Shiro slowly spin the hologram. 

 

His frown deepened then the dots connected. “It’s a prison,” Lance said, the revelation obvious now that he had spoken it into existence. Shiro nodded.

“It’s the Galran high-security prison Spherok.” He seemed like he wanted to say something else but fell silent instead. 

 

The Princess didn’t lift her gaze from the hologram, lines of her face pulled taut in concentration. Lance could see the thought passing through behind her eyes. It was mesmerising to watch and made him crave having a beautiful mind as well, to hold knowledge without depth and to know how to wield it too. He swallowed the lump that swelled inside his throat. There was no need to focus on lost potential, on potential that had never been there in the first place.

 

“Galrans have only been in the process of building it a few months ago,” she murmured, almost inaudible and completely not meant for any of them to hear. But Pidge perked up at that, as in shot up an entire foot in height, eyes almost owlishly wide. 

“Who gave you that information?” Her voice carried urgency like it always did when her mind was being filled with a forming idea.

“It was in one of the correspondence documents my father received from the Galran Crown.” The Princess frowned and tilted her head.

 

“That information is false. It says here,” Pidge tapped the screen a few times, her fingers almost comically loud on the tablets surface, or maybe they were just all collectively holding their breaths, “ _ Construction has been finished. The first transfer of Prisoner’s expected to arrive at noon the next day. _ ” Pidge adjusted her glasses and shot Shiro a wary look. The action was so quick, it was already over before Lance could reassure himself that it actually happened.

“The transferred Prisoners are listed here as  _ Haggar’s Division _ and the doc is dated almost nine months ago.”

For a moment there was nothing but silence looming over them like a bad omen, like a prophecy that had already taken on the shape of reality. 

“But that can’t be possible! My father  _ visited _ the construction site. Three months after that document is dated.” The princess spoke and the beginnings of hysteria seeped into her voice.

 

Hunk reached out and took the tablet from Pidge’s hand. His eyes skimmed over the words on the screen. “She’s right, Allura. But that’s not even all.”

Lance wanted to sigh. Bad news travelled in packs now.

“It says here that safety measures have been increased a lot in the past few weeks.” Hunk’s frown deepened.

“What does that mean?” Keith asked. Lance made eye contact with Pidge and across the room. The seed of a thought was planted and grew in two minds simultaneously.

“Wrong question,” Lance answered, “What happened to make such an increase necessary?”

Lance tossed his thought like a ball, seeing if someone would find it useful enough to catch it.

Pidge caught it effortlessly and began to spin it further. “Attempted prison breakout?”

“Most likely,” Hunk answered.

 

Keith reached across his lap and took the tablet from his hands. He scrolled for a bit and then stopped, eyebrows rising higher and higher at what he found. Lance saw the energy at the new revelation thrumming beneath his skin. It was the first time in weeks any life returned to his face.

“Most of the changes took place in the outer parts of Spherok. Doors, patrol, things like that,” Keith said.

“You don’t see any guards as a prisoner. They keep you isolated at all times. Even if you changed cells, they knock you out before they bring you to your new cell,” Shiro interjected, the ghost of a reality he tried to forget sitting on his shoulders and bleeding into his voice.

 

“That means the breach must have come from the outside,” Lance concluded.

Coran took a look at the files, his eyes moving at an almost inhuman speed. “The breach came from the outside and targeted sector LMB21.”

“That’s Shiro’s sector ─  _ Prisoners of War─  _ ” Hunk added.

“But that sector is  _ huge _ ,” Lance interrupted him. He got up and walked over to the hologram of the prison. He spun it in place until they were looking at an excerpt of  _ Sector LMB21. _

“There are only two groups of people who would even have the resources needed to plan such an attack, let alone actually come close to succeeding,” Allura mused, her vibrant eyes muted by ongoing thought processes behind them, “ We can rule out the crown but then we’re left with─”

“The Blade of Marmora,” Keith finished.

 

Lance looked up to meet his gaze, hoping to catch bits of his thoughts to form new ones out of them, but they scorched his eyes with their intensity. His gaze flicked away. 

“But why now? Why this offensive?” He asked no one in particular, merely voicing the half sentences floating around in his mind. “I mean, look at the changes, they might as well could’ve gone in with a wrecking ball.”

“You mean there is something that made them act now over any other moment?” Coran asked and Lance nodded.

“They have to be desperate.” He felt something warm spread across his skin when he saw that his thoughts were actually under consideration. That he was being useful for once.

 

Keith extended his hand for the tablet and Pidge peered over his shoulder as he was scrolling. Keith was visibly tense and Lance suspected it was because of the violet elephant in the room they all weren’t talking about. Keith hadn’t let anyone of them touch him ever since that had happened. Pidge acted like she didn’t notice it.

“Found something!” She exclaimed after a few minutes of reading and searching, “The date for the public execution of prisoner LMA369 has been set. It says here that they were a prominent and high-ranking member of the Blade of Marmora.”

“There we have our reason,” Hunk said and crossed his arms as his mind pieced the story further and further together.

 

Lance perked up when he saw Shiro mumbling the same three numbers over and over again. “Shiro, what is it?” he asked, concerned when he saw that all colour had drained out of his face.

“ _ Of course. _ Prisoner 369, that’s Ulaz!” Shiro exclaimed with wide eyes, two angry red spots high on his cheeks

“Who?” Hunk tilted his head in confusion.

“He helped me get past the guards in the outer sector. He let himself get caught so that I could make it out alive,” he trailed off, shoulder sinking and sinking as misplaced guilt took back its place on his shoulders.

“This Ulaz has to be important for the Blade of Marmora to be this offensive. Look at how far they came, this must have taken months of intricate planning.” Lance heard the  _ months that we don’t have  _ the Princess didn’t say.

 

But Pidge’s unexpected enthusiasm shredded any doubt that might have hung in the room.

“And that’s great!” She exclaimed, eyes glinting almost manically.

“It is?” Hunk and Keith asked simultaneously.

“Yes! We can essentially reverse engineer their plan and adjust ours as needed.”

Lance bit his lip, he hated being the one curbing her enthusiasm. He eyed the tablet and read the date on it. “We don’t have that much time though. The execution is set to begin in ten days.”

Shiro turned towards the Princess. “How fast can we get there?”

“One and a half days of nonstop travel,“ she answered. 

 

That leaves us with 8 and half days max to prep.“  _ Congrats Keith, You can do math!  _ snarked the bitter part of Lance‘s mind, the one that still stung like a fresh wound when he thought about Keith‘s words earlier. 

Hunk raised his eyebrows at Pidge. “Can we get it done that quickly?”

Pidge looked around, her gaze lingering on Shiro for a second and squared her shoulders in determination. “We’ll have to.”

 

* * *

 

At least her hands weren‘t shaking yet. That was the only positive thing she could find in her current situation. After the first half of her third cup of coffee, her hands still held strong against an onslaught of caffeine. Kinda pathetic if you spelt it out like that. But the alternative was far worse. 

Because the alternative was exhaustion and exhaustion brought sleep and that wasn‘t something she had the nerves nor the time to deal with. Sleep meant dreaming and dreaming brought nightmares, feverish cages with their bars constructed out of memories blown out of proportion and fear finally given a physical shape. 

Sometimes she dreamt of the way Shiro had completely convulsed, half twisted and shaken, when one of the mercenaries had electrocuted his arm. She shook her head as if that could shoo the thoughts away, like flies or dust or something equally insignificant. It only partially worked.

 

At least she wouldn’t have to fight for her brain’s attention alone anymore. 

“Hey, how’re you holding up?” Pidge didn’t flinch at his voice, not anymore. Trial and error spread out over the course of many long months had brought Lance to find the perfect way to interrupt her while she was working.

She lifted her gaze to look at him but the rows upon rows of foreign numbers just loomed inside her field of vision, like they had permanently branded themselves against her eyelids. She studied his appearance, the blue eyes dulled by exhaustion and the way he was kneading his hands. Nervous, then.

 

She perhaps stayed silent for a bit too long, the feeling of words evading her too jarring to cover up seamlessly. Cover-ups and always putting one’s best foot forward were Lance’s thing anyway not hers.

“I’m fine,” she finally answered, a hollow phrase, the truth so poorly expressed it counted as a lie. In some way it was, it was wishful thinking, a mantra repeated again and again in desperate attempts to speak it into existence. 

“Are you sure? You haven’t taken a break at all since we came back from the swap cave,” his eyebrows furrowed together and he finally stepped into her room, carefully treading over clothes and technical gadgets that laid scattered across her bedroom floor.

 

He continued. “You just found out about Spherok and all that and you have been trying to crack the files of the Blade of Marmora–– “

“Why are you doing this?” She stared at him, long and hard, like if she did it long enough all of his motives would reveal themselves to her. But Lance wasn’t a math equation, his innermost workings eluded her.

“Why am I doing what?” He came closer and sat down across from her on the bed. His fingers itched to resume their twitching, but something halted their movement like the strings of a marionette pulled taut.

“Why do you  _ care?”  _ She sounded accusing, even to her own ears. But it was a fair question. She didn’t deserve his concern... not after doubting him time and time again.

“Pidge––” his eyes widened, while the rest of his face collapsed in of itself, “ of course I care. We–– We’re a team, aren’t we?” Of course, they were. 

They belonged to one another like the two arms of a scale. But their scale wasn’t evenly matched. Lance’s side was heavy, lingering near the floor, filled with all the love he gave, with the support he offered, the rants he’d listened to and insults and doubts he had taken in stride, just so that he could lift her side up to the sky.

Their friendship was a textbook reference of inequality. The one shown to say, that’s exactly how  _ not _ to do it.

 

“Yes, of course, we are,” she croaked out, guilt wrapping its vines around her throat as her realization settled in. “You’re just not supposed to be like this. I walked right over you back down in the mountain. You’re response shouldn’t be to worry about me or even be nice to me.” 

She sneered inwardly at her weak voice, thin like a child’s. She had never been good at acknowledging guilt and apologising.

 

Lance huffed out a small laugh, that was too sad to sound right. A smiley face drawn in the deepest shade of blue. “But that’s how it’s always been isn’t it? Why is this time any different?”

It wasn‘t so much what he said as how he said it that stung in the worst way possible. It sounded like the most self-evident thing that has existed, like this was the actual way he deserved to be treated.

Pidge sputtered over her words. “Because that’s not how you deserve to be treated. You deserve better Lance!” She balled her hands into fists to keep herself from reaching out and shaking him. “You deserve more!” She felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes but blinked harshly to shoo them away. 

“But you already give me enough, Pidge,” Lance answered, with nothing but sincerity and sincerity in his eyes. He truly believed what he said to be true and Pidge felt like tearing her own hair out.

 

“I don’t,” she insisted stubbornly. She pushed her glasses up into her hair and rubbed her eyes. She heard him inhale, composing an answer but she was faster. “No,  _ no _ . You don’t have to this, you deserve better.” Her momentum died down and she faltered. The words lodged themselves inside her throat. She righted her glasses and the world snapped back into focus. She took a deep breath and started speaking anew. 

“I haven’t been a good friend, at least not as good as you have been to me and I am sorry.” He reached out, gripped his hand and squeezed once, twice.

And Lance squeezed back, once. twice.

 

“I’m not going to win this argument am I?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Agree to disagree?” She shook her head again.

They made eye contact for a solid 30 seconds and then both of them exploded into laughter. The sound rang jarring and echoing, like a note purposefully played off-key but it filled the room in a way nothing else had for the last few days.

After their laughter died down, Lance set his eyes back onto the screen, eyes wandering over the rows upon rows of numbers rolling across the screen. The last bits of laughter bled off his face as reality caught up to him.

“How are you coming along with your search?” He asked the question slowly, as if to act as a buffer between her and the implications beneath it.

 

_ Can you make it in time? _

 

“More or less. It’s a slow and tedious progress but I’m making progress.”  _ At least I hope so, _ “But the more I learn about Spherok’s security system, the more and more I am no longer sure if we can get them out, if we can make it.”

There they were. Out in the open, spoken into existence. The doubts that have been robbing her of sleep and acted as the fuel to keep her running at maximum capacity even as her body threatened to fail her.

 

She flinched when Lance’s hands shot up to grip her shoulders. His fingers bit into her biceps but she welcomed the sensation, used it as an anchor to grounded herself..

“Hey, hey, hey! No, no! We’re not doubting ourselves right now.” He met her eyes, his blue ones burning bright with all the determination and faith she lacked in that moment.

“You have a backbone forged of steel and you won’t yield. Not to doubt and sure as hell not to some spoiled brat of a prince! You will get your family back. Because if there is someone who can figure out a way to break into a high security prison, it’s you.” 

 

His voice didn’t waver, not once, didn’t show any traces of doubt or uncertainty and surprisingly, it helped. The load resting her shoulders got a little lighter and the smile that spread on her lips finally felt genuine.

“Thank you, Lance.” The words weren’t enough to convey what he truly meant to her and how much what he did mattered to her but they would have to suffice.

Lance smiled back in a way that told her that he had at least gotten part of what lied beneath her words.

 

“Always.”

 

* * *

  
  


“Didn’t Coran tell you to do these exercises with a partner?” Keith closed his eyes and suppressed a groan when he was once more bothered while doing his exercises. 

 

“Never needed someone to help me get up after I’ve fallen down and not starting now,” he bit out, perhaps more forceful than he had intended. His patience was running thin and with it his self control. Keith straightened up on shaking legs and for the first time in days, met Shiro’s gaze. His eyes caught onto the visible lines of exhaustion and the fading yellow bruising along the cut of his jaw. A jaw that was currently set. Shiro’s most obvious tell that he was losing his patience. Keith already expected harsh words but instead, Shiro positioned himself in front of him and held out his hands. Keith stared at them dumbly as his brain wasn’t able to come up with a response. 

 

“Take them,” Shiro all but ordered, his voice carrying the same authority it did back the Garrison and Keith reflexively wanted to refuse. He had meant what he said. He wouldn’t start relying on people now. But Shiro only stared him down wordlessly and wiggled his fingers. This was a battle he would lose. He sighed and relented. Shiro’s palms felt warm against his clammy ones but the new callouses on the fingers of his left hand told him that Shiro had also been spending the fair share of his time on the training deck.

 

This however was only a minor thought, cast away and pushed aside by a much bigger one. One that was selfishly claiming the forefront of Keith’s attention.  _ This was the first time we have been alone together since the Mountain.  _

Shiro didn’t look up to meet his eyes and Keith felt something that could have been both relief or dread and now didn’t know what to call itself. So it remained lost, caught between the two extremes, just as clueless as he was.

Keith’s eyes fell down onto his Galran arm and lingered on a way it never had before. The silence between them grew, as Keith stared at it even harder. It was Galran, just like him, wrong and nothing but a bearer of pain for Shiro, just like him.

 

He buried his front teeth in his lower lip until he felt the sharp tang of blood in his mouth.  _ Good, _ a vicious part of his mind crooned,  _ pain, just like you deserve it.  _ Keith bit down even harder, as he began bending his knee again. Burning pain spread in his thigh and, spread and spread, until it was loud enough to drown out the mess inside his head.

But when Shiro pulled him up to straighten again the noise subsided and his torture began anew. It wasn’t until after his fingernails had left, deep, red crescent marks on Shiro’s arm that Shiro spoke again.

“Are you actually going to say something?” His voice sounded cutting in the way it had the last time they spoke together and Keith marvelled at the fact the he could drive someone as calm as Shiro into anger and frustration. He really had to be a bad person to accomplish that. 

 

“Yes. An entire sentence, too. Would you look at that?” Keith ground out through clenched teeth, his breath coming out in hot puffs like those of bull taunted by a red piece of cloth.

“Nice to see that you didn’t lose your sense of humour.” Passive Aggressiveness. Keith could practically see his patience running thin.

“Nice to see that you’ve gotten a grip on your temper.” Keith’s voice turned icy cold as his word hit too close to home. He wanted to apologise, to put his hands on Shiro’s tensed arms and swear to the stars and the depths of earth that he didn’t mean it that way but all that came of his mouth were words too sharp to be apologised for with words alone.

“One of us had to,” Shiro fired back without hesitation and Keith flinched at the memory of him yelling, his voice rising with false accusations and self-hatred that hadn’t fit inside his body and then turned outwards instead. Keith opened his mouth but words failed him. He wanted nothing more to ask what was wrong, but he was the answer to that question, so he wasn’t in the place to ask it. He had never been the place to ask it.

 

But Shiro asked it anyway. “What happened to us, Keith?” His voice sounded streaked and stuffed with pain, and wobbled under the weight of it. Shiro took a step back to get some distance between them and widened his stance as if to brace himself for impact.

_ You vanished. You  _ left.

The words burned on his tongue brighter than ever before, a violent reminder that even after a long time of suffering Keith could compose grand speeches and fling out accusations like no one else, and still be too much of a coward to actually voice them outloud. 

 

“Time passed,” he said instead, his voice a mere echo of the rising noise inside his head. Keith set his eyes to the mat and retraced its lines over and over again but Shiro still saw right through him, like had been looking into his eyes all along. 

“You still blame me for leaving, don’t you?”

Shiro spoke so neutrally, that Keith lifted his head to see the hate Shiro’s voice was lacking. But when their eyes met he was met with so much worse.  _ Hurt,  _ disbelieving hurt, stood written across Shiro’s features. Hurt,  _ he _ had put there.

Keith opened his mouth and then closed it again. There weren’t any words in his mind fit to form an answer. But they didn't have to anyway, his silence had spoken more than he ever would have managed.

 

He hadn’t immediately answered with no.

 

Instead, he exploded. “I─ I.. How could you?” His voice burst from his throat as the last barrier of his thoughts, broke down, _“How could you, Shiro?”_ His voice was shattered, low and rough and broken. Keith balled his hands into fists, his fingernails biting crescent-shaped marks into his palms.

“I just keep losing you! Back at the Garrison because you  _ had  _ to go on a goddam suicide mission. Back in Sorans because you jump in front of a fucking bullet─ !”

“I saved your life.”

“You’ve almost gotten yourself killed!” Keith snapped, “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t be my brother, the only person I have and then run around, desperately trying to get killed! I can’t take it!  _ I can’t.” _

 

There was it. The truth. Out in the open. The damm had broken and the truth came pouring out.

 

Shiro stared at him, eyes widened, cheeks bright red, chest heaving. “Keith,” was all he said and Keith already expected the worst. He prepared himself for the worst. Shiro would leave. Keith had gone too far, had cut too deep.

Shiro took a step back and Keith kicked back into gear. Seized by a panic of losing Shiro  _ again _ ─ This time because Keith had finally driven him away ─ he shot forward.

 

His hand closed down on Shiro’s wrist in an iron grip. “Don’t!” He averted his eyes but kept his grip tight, like a child begging his parent not to leave him. In any other moment, he would have had a sarcastic smile to spare. 

“Please,” he added and bit down on his lips when he heard the tremble in his voice. Shiro turned to face him and furrowed his brows. Keith bit down on his tongue before pushing out a long breath. 

 

“What do you want me to do, Keith?” Shiro pulled his wrist from Keith’s grip and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “You want me to stay but you’re still angry at me for leaving.” He dropped his hands only to bury them back in his hair as his eyes rose to meet Keith’s.

Keith’s entire skin crawled at the raw hurt in them, at the pain and suffering that had grown and spread over his face in the past weeks. It had been there for so long, it almost seemed like it was part of his face by now. Keith had grown so used to it that he had been able to ignore it, push it aside to harbour his own anger.

 

He forced his head upwards, his eyes on Shiro’s and said what he should have done weeks ago. “I’m sorry. For everything, for treating you the way I did, for being terrible,” he huffed out a breath as his chest tightened, “You deserve better.”

Keith let go of Shiro’s wrist and began playing with his gloves. He released his breath, expecting his chest to feel lighter. But it didn’t, there was still that same weight sitting on it that he had been carrying for weeks now. Because apologies didn’t absolve you from guilt.

 

And yet, Shiro lifted his arms. Keith shot forward before he could even think. This couldn’t be.

His arms wrapped around Shiro’s torso and when his face was smushed against Shiro’s chest, his last line of defence fell. Tears came pouring out, giant rivers, enough to fill every sea and every ocean. Keith sobbed and sobbed, tears that had sat in his eyes since Shiro had first left, from back when had first gotten him back, to now. They came and they came and they came.

 

And Shiro’s did too.

 

They held each other arms tight, teas flowing until time lost all meaning, was reduced to nothing more than a construct.

It was only after his tears had dried that Keith made moves to let go of Shiro. He took a step back but made an effort to meet his eyes even while every fibre of his being wanted to curl up and hide. He focused on the redness around Shiro’s eyes, the pain they had given each other that day. He was tired of pain. Tired of having nothing to offer but pain.

 

So he reached inside his chest and brought forth honesty. “Shiro, I’m sorry. For everything. You─ “ He faltered but forced himself to keep going, “You’re everything I have. My brother, my family.

Losing you has been the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I─ I’m sorry that I have brought you nothing but pain.” Keith lowered his head and bit his lip.

 

Shiro reached out and gripped his bandage, palms resting right over the splotches. “I apologise too, Keith. For everything, for hurting you, for not being there when you needed me most. I promise I’ll do better. I promise I’ll be there when you need me.”

 

Keith lifted his head and saw the tentative smile blooming on Shiro’s lips, the possibility of a way out of their cycle of pain and aching. Keith responded in kind. “I’ll do better, too. I promise I’ll be there for you, too.”

 

They found themselves in another hug but this time neither knew who had moved first. A few more tears fell but the weight on Keith’s chest finally got lighter. It didn’t vanish but it lightened.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” Keith asked, his voice hopeful and small.

Shiro’s grip on him tightened “Yes, we will.”

 

* * *

 

“Show us what you’ve got.” Keith’s head shot up that and his eyes went to Lance, leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, eyes set to Pidge. Keith tried to recall the hurt he had seen on his face, use it to guilt trip himself into apologising but his imagination fell short. Lance’s features, brows furrowed in serious thought, voice carrying the kind of intent he usually only knew from Shiro, directly conflicted it. 

Lance ─ this Lance, at least ─ didn’t have a face fit to carry ache and suffering.

 

Pidge walked over to their map projector and drew up Spherok’s floor plan. Keith expected to see the familiar shape, the one he had spent numerous nights staring at when he couldn’t sleep and seeing whether or not the other Paladins were awake wasn’t an option. But what he got was much bigger. 

The floor plan had expanded and now covered, what seemed like the outdoor area of the prison. Traps and guards and outposts. All of it and more, drawn in glowing blue lights. Keith hurried to close his mouth but Pidge shot him a satisfied smirk before he got to it. She then seemed to remember who she was smiling at and faltered.

Keith kept his eyes on her and offered her a small smile, barely even a twitch of the corners of his mouth. But it was enough, she held onto his gaze and the moment continued for a while longer before she turned back to the rest of the team and began to speak.

 

“I have found logs about the construction of the floors and the outdoor area and have updated our hologramme,” she began but quickly trailed off to bury her teeth in her lower lip.

“What else?”Hunk asked, frowning in concern.

“Bad news,” Pidge announced as though they hadn’t become the only type of news they had lately. 

“What is it?” Shiro asked, he leaned forward and put his hands on the back of Keith’s chair. Keith felt the shift in his voice and posture, more vividly than he would have if it were anyone else, but for the first time in weeks, he didn’t tense. He remained just the way he was, slouched in his chair, eyes set to the hologramme.

“They have recently made updates to the way they power the prison’s defence system,” she took a deep breath and shot them a wary look. Keith turned his head to follow her eyes’ path. His gaze fell onto the Princess and his frown deepened.

“Galran scientists have found a way to power their systems with quintessence.” 

 

A violent memory forced itself forward and into the forefront of his mind. Blue flashing lights, Lance crying out, his voice so,  _ so _ pained and then crumbling like a house of cards. Keith rubbed his fingertips together, remembering the way the bumps of Lance’s burn scar had felt beneath his fingers

“Please tell me that isn’t true,” Allura asked, hands balled into fists, shoulders shaking. Pidge merely shook her head.

“I’m over bad news, ”Hunk sighed and slouched back into his chair. Lance leaned against him, shoulders rounded and sinking. He huffed out a breath. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

 

Keith bit down on the inside of his cheek and set his eyes to the hologramme. They wandered along blue lines of a hallway that looked almost identical, a maze of terror spiked with traps and powered by quintessence.

Going in would be a suicide mission.

 

The back of his chair creaked as Shiro pushed himself upright and straightened the line of his spine. His voice was all Garrison’s prodigy, all Commander Shirogane, promising and hopeful when he spoke. “But we can work around that. We have faced much bigger and much worse than that.

Pidge, have you found out anything else?” Onward and upwards. Shiro’s only philosophy in life, Keith wanted to hate him for it. Wanted to scoff at those words and curl his lip at false promises but he couldn’t. Shiro had that effect sometimes.

And not just on him he seemed. Pidge blew out a deep breath and began moving the hologram. “I’ve figured out a way to get us in there.”

“Please say that there’s a hidden back door they somehow forgot in all of their security protocols.” Hunk closed his eyes and crossed his fingers. Lance snorted and hid his face in his hands.  

“Yeah, no,” Pidge shot him an apologetic look but even Keith could see how hard she was working on holding back her laughter, “We’ll go right through the front door.” The corner of her lips curled up in a mysterious smile and she turned back to the Princess.

 

“I’ve read in some of the research notes on quintessence that wielders have the power of transforming themselves and essentially shape shift is that true?” Pidge righted her glasses.

“It is a possibility. Why is it important?

A smile, a small wicked thing, spread on Pidge’s lips. “We’ll disguise ourselves as prisoners and you’ll be the one to escort us inside.”

“Do you think that will work?” Keith crossed his ankles and shot her a look filled with doubt. Shiro had been one of the feel who had managed to escaped the prison, surely all of the guards would be on the lookout for them.

“Yes, it will. They cover the prisoner’s faces and don’t remove the sacks until they’re inside their cell. Standard safety protocol.” Shiro answered before he walked over to the hologram and zoomed into the outdoor area right in front of the prison gates. 

 

“We can hijack on of those vehicles to get to the prisoners checkpoints.” Lance proposed. 

“That’s actually brilliant!” Hunk answered, “That’ll mean we won’t be seen for long enough for security footage to pick up that we actually set foot on the grounds.”

 

“And when we reach the checkpoint, the only thing left to do is to take out the responsible guards before they have the chance to alert anybody,” Keith added. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes dead set on the prisoner’s checkpoint separating the gates from the actual entrance.

 

“Look at you, Keith, always up for hurting someone,” Lance drawled and lifted an eyebrow at him when his eyes shot up, “But he is right, no matter how violent his approach.” Keith’s head shot up, eyes filled with fire but it went out like a blown out candle when his eyes met Lance’s. Lance saw that there wouldn’t be any push back coming from him and merely raised an eyebrow. Keith wanted to snap back, fight back, but he couldn’t. Not when he deserved it. The war inside his mind, two sides tugging and tearing at his vocal cords, continued until Allura broke the spreading silence.

 

“Okay let’s say we pass the Prisoner’s checkpoint and somehow incapacitate the guards. What do we do then?” She truly looked the part of a ruler now, hair tied back, features lined with determination. As though she could just walk into Spherok and tear the whole place down herself. 

“Well, we have three separate missions, don’t we?” Hunk began counting on his fingers, “We have to find the Holts, both of them so that makes two, we have to free Ulaz and we have to get out of there again somehow.” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

 

“So we’ll have to split up.” Lance furrowed his brown in thought and Keith found himself staring at him longer than he should, longer that he could justify, even to himself. “Pidge will obviously go looking for a Holt and Shiro will be looking for Ulaz, so that leaves the remaining four of us to find themselves either a mission or someone to tag along with or stay in the Castle as backup.”

Lance voice carried effortlessly, nothing more than a scoff at the weak thing that had been talked down to back when they were planning the Mountain mission. Something had shifted down there in the Mountain, as if he had walked in as one person and came out another. 

 

“I’ll go with Pidge to balance the scales. You know big muscles and quick tech genius. Usually works very well together.” Hunk shot Pidge a small grin that she answered with one of her own before looking at Lance, Keith and Allura.

“So all of you still need a mission.” The words hung in the room and at once Keith felt like the entire atmosphere in the room shifted, as if there were a conversation going on he was missing, one happening without him. Silent glances, meaningful stares, all of them right in front of him and he wasn’t getting any of them. 

Lance stared Allura down, his blue eyes two hardened blocks of ice. But even Lance, who would make a person as broad as he was tall wither with one single glare, couldn’t stare down a queen.

“I’ll go with Shiro to look for Ulaz, while Keith and Lance look for Holt Number Two,” Allura spoke the words like a law, final and non-negotiable, and Keith felt any form of protest die on his tongue. 

 

He wanted to remain silent but the look on Lance’s face –– eyes hardened, brows furrowed, mouth nothing more than a thin line –– changed his mind. This was his fault, Keith had caused this. He couldn’t remain quiet now. “I can go with Shiro, we have worked together in the past, we make a good team.”

Lance shot him an unreadable stare, as heavy as lead and piercing him to the bone. Keith wanted to wither and die, like a flower caught in eternal winter but instead, he forced himself to keep talking. 

“Besides, you and Lance are both good at stealth you’ll work amazingly together!” Keith forced himself to say, the voice too loud, too many holes in his reasoning to actually convince anyone.

 

Lance’s eyes didn’t leave his face when he spoke even though he addressed all of them. “We should go with Allura’s plan. Both of us are long-range fighters, pairing us together wouldn’t necessarily make sense.” Keith bit his lip when Lance blew up his spotty reasoning.

“Let’s finalise this then, we don’t have the time to argue on this further.” Coran sharply clapped his hands, to emphasise his point. “Hunk and Pidge, you two are team one. Allura and Shiro, you two are team two and Lance and Keith, you two are team three.” Coran pointed at them one after another and drew up three different markers in the map.

 

“Wait why are Pidge and Hunk number one?” Lance asked, affronted like the actual child he was. 

“Hunk is the tallest,” Coran merely answered.

“Well, Pidge is the shortest, that should cancel out Hunk’s height!” lance argued.

“Lance, stop being such a pissba–!” Pidge started but Shiro quickly interrupted her.

“Well, that still leaves Allura and me being averagely taller than you and Keith are, so that wouldn’t change anything with the fact that you won’t be team one.”

“Paladins, can we focus?” Allura interrupted sharply and pointed towards the hologram that was still conveniently floating in the middle of the room.

“Fine.” Lance sighed and turned towards the hologram.

“Thank you.”

 

“So the Castle of Lions will drop you off here.” Coran pointed towards the entry point further away from the hexagonal prison that sat in the centre of the wide outdoor area. “Allura shapeshifts until she seems Galran enough to pass as mixed race and smuggles you through the first entry point. And then?” He looked at Pidge twirling his mustache in doubt. 

“We’ll have to incapacitate the guard at the entry points. If we time it correctly, we’ll arrive right at the beginning of their shift, that buys us at least three hours before someone else comes looking for them.+,” Pidge explained as she moved their markes to the second prisoners checkpoint. 

 

Keith read the notes she had crammed next to the holographic structure. A splash of red against a sea of blue.  _ Two guards, three hour shifts, relatively little security footage. _ The notes were hand written in a chicken scrawl even worse than his. It was somehow ironic that someone that lived and breathed tech, still did their notes by hand.

 

“We only have a window of three hours?!” Shiro intersected, his eyes wide, “That won’t be possible.” Keith nodded, they would never make it out in three hours, Spherok was the size of a small city, they would never make it out in time. 

“We have a bit more than that,” Hunk added and seamlessly took the tablet from Pidge’s hands, “The prisoner frequency increases around midday, so they’ll be unable to tell which prison cart exactly caused the interference, that buys us extra time.”

“Ressources will be also delegated to ensure that everything is set for the execution, so that means they’ll probably be a bit sloppier than usual,” Lance reasoned.

“The execution is  _ inside _ the prison?” Keith asked, incredulously. 

“Cuts down on travel time and minimises the threat of escape,” Shiro answered.

 

“So we’re doing this then?” Hunk asked, looking at them one by one.

“Breaking into a Galran high-security prison and trying to make it out alive?” Lance asked right back.

“Being reckless and rash and possibly stupid?” Pidge added.

“I think so, yeah,” Keith answered, fear and dread looming in the pits of his stomach.

“Let’s make it count then,” Shiro said finally, the last hopeful bit in their story, spiralling into doom and catastrophe and things far worse.

 

The room began to clear afterwards, all of them leaving one by one until there were only Lance and him and the purpose resting in his throat. Keith wondered why Lance might have lingered and then decided that he didn’t want to know the answer. He looked at the floor and tried to gather his courage. This was his chance to fix things, to make things right and he would take it.

He took a deep breath, thought of how he had laid out everything, planned everything and even as all of his insides covering in fear and doubt and whatnot urged him against it, he raised his voice.  

“Lance!”

 

* * *

 

Lance perked up when he heard Keith call after him. It had been too long for Keith to address him directly without him growing suspicious. He narrowed his eyes. “What? 

Keith faltered. “I, uh… I wanted to apologise.” The words came out stilted and pressed but Lance didn’t say anything. He let the silence settle until it became uncomfortable and then watched Keith fill it to get rid of the sensation. 

“I didn’t treat you right,” he buried his hands in his hair only to drop them as soon as they were there, “You just wanted to help and I was being a dick. And I’m sorry.”

 

The words were sincere, Lance could tell as much. There was nothing but true sorrow leaking out of Keith’s eyes and bleeding into his voice but Lance just stared at him for long enough to make him fidget.

“You hurt me.” The truth and nothing else, and yet, Keith flinched as though he had hit him.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, you’re not the first one and won’t be the last one.” Lance didn’t know why he wanted this to sting so bad for Keith, why he wanted to make it  _ hurt. _ Maybe he was just being petty, who knew. Or maybe he wanted to keep himself from forgiving him too quickly. Because even while the burn inside his chest was still there and marks Keith’s word had left on his mind still haven’t faded, Lance’s first reflex to seeing pain in Keith’s eyes was to reach out and try to fix it.

“Lance, please,” Keith pleaded and crossed the room in three steps. He came to face Lance but lost his momentum when he got there. His voice was diminished and small when he spoke again. “I…  I–– What I did was wrong, was so,  _ so  _ wrong,” Keith looked him straight in the eye, voice serious but his face streaked with regret and shame, “I want to apologise, try to make it right.”

 

Lance wanted to curse him to hell and back as his heart melted to the soft pleading tone in Keith’s voice. He wanted to be angry at him, wanted to make him suffer, make him  _ burn _ , just like he had. But not even  _ he  _ could play that role, keep up the act of wrath and scorn. He caved. 

“Fine then,” he sighed, exhaustion ringing in his bones, “Go ahead.” It was a hollow invitation, a small challenge that he had expected to go ignored but Keith startled him with a bright flash of determination in his eyes. A challenger fit to meet his challenge. He reached out and gripped his wrist. 

He had already half-turned when he spoke again. “I need to show you something.”

 

He dragged him through half the ship and through corners he had never been in but Lance still forced himself no to ask any questions. He wouldn’t give Keith the satisfaction of being curious. Instead, he speculated and guessed and wondered. He remained silent.

He did all of that but nothing in his mind came even close to what was in front of his eyes.

 

A bathtub. Not just any bathtub, no. This one was built for the gods themselves, carved from milky white stone and lined with gold. Steam rippled through the bathroom as Lance took in the bubbles piled high and spilling over the edges of the bathtub.

 

“What?” He wasn’t capable of more. Just this syllable to express the mess inside his head.

“I heard you complaining to Hunk about that you can’t keep up your skin care regimen and I nicked this sort of bubble bath when we were down in the Mountain…” Keith trailed off, as though he had somehow lost his explanation somewhere along the way. He cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I’ll just… leave you to it then.” He took a step back and was about to turn when, in a moment of rash impulsiveness, Lance reached out and gripped his wrist.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice much more pleading than he had been going for, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Keith stared at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed but didn’t immediately say no. “What do you mean?”

Lance took a deep breath and pushed the part of him that still clung to anger aside. “Just turn around while I change but please don’t leave.” He himself was surprised by how sincere he was. In a world where they talked about prison breakouts and break-ins and hurt each other again and again and again, Keith leaving him was still the worst thing he could think of.

 

Keith nodded and turned his back to him. A rustle of clothing, the slight drip of water spilling later Keith sat down next to the bathtub and stared at him. Lance stared right back at him and for the first time, he realised how  _ weird _ this was. Here he was––naked in a bathtub with nothing but bubbles and milky white water to cover him––and there was Keith, sitting in front of him, fully dressed.

 

Silence stretched between them, shaped itself around them like a bubble, trapping them in their own little pocket of the universe. But just like every other bubble, this one had to burst.

“How is your leg coming along?” Lance winced at how stilted he sounded when Keith looked up to meet his eyes. 

He pushed back his bangs and seemed genuinely confused at the question. “Good, I–– ‘I’ve made some progress with Shiro’s help.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at that, Keith noticed and fell silent. 

_ So you’ll take his help but not mine?  _ He wanted to ask but didn’t.

_ Why didn’t you let me help you, Keith?”  _ He wanted to ask but didn’t.

_ Why is he good enough and I am not? _ He wanted to ask but didn’t

 

Instead, he asked, “Why do we keep hurting each other?” Lance’s heart clenched when the words left his mouth, a question sitting on his chest for weeks, now burning even more that it had been given the room to actually be heard.

Keith didn’t answer, he merely closed his eyes, the movement pained and slow, and grabbed Lance’s hand as if to steady himself. Lance wanted to pull his hand away, or at least, he thought he should. But neither his mind nor his body cared enough for that to happen.

 

Keith opened his eyes but remained silent for a while and Lance unabashedly stared at him. He drank in the sharp cut of his jaw and marvelled at how his eyes were a galaxy residing in a human. Artists would weep tears of joy if they got to capture him on canvas and here was Lance, hurting and bending and twisting him.

Keith took a deep breath and it seemed like he was composing himself in front of Lance’s very eyes. The grip on his hand tightened and Lance found himself wanting to lean forward and bury his face where Keith’s neck transitioned over into his shoulder. 

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Keith whispered finally. The words lingered between them, hung in the air as if they themselves were part of the steam billowing around them. 

“I don’t want to hurt you either,” Lance answered and he found himself was shocked by how true those words were. After hours and days spent filled to the brim with anger and rage, with his hands twitching with the desire to destroy and his mind coming up with one cruelty after another, it all had bled away, had made way for what had been there the entire time: Hurt

 

Now that he had recognised that the insides of his chest finally began to make sense. He looked at what he carried in in his heart and began to form coherent thought out of it. 

_ I don’t want to hurt Keith. _

_ I want to be good for Keith. _

_ I want to be good  _ to  _ Keith. _

_ And––  _ even in his mind, caught between his thoughts and shielded from the outside world he couldn’t bring himself to speak it into existence.

 

“You didn’t hurt me, “Keith murmured, “at least not undeservingly.” Guilt coiled its shackles around Lance’s heart when he saw that Keith actually believed what he said.

“Yes, I did,” Lance answered but Keith didn’t believe him. Lance shifted his weight so that he now sat facing Keith. Keith tracked his movements with his eyes but did nothing but re-adjust the grip he had on Lance’s hand. Lance gathered every last bit of courage and reached out with his other hand.

His hand met Keith’s cheek and something inside Lance’s chest bloomed. 

“Let’s stop then,” he whispered, the words nothing more than a shaky exhale.

Lance tightened his grip for the fraction of a second when Keith closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. Pain, and hurt, and loneliness had taken their toll on Keith, and all of it was there for him to see. Pain that Lance had been a part of, he had caused and intensified. It had left its traces here like footprints in the snow. 

“Yeah, let’s stop,” Keith echoed back in a rough whisper.

 

His fingertips glid across the sharp curve of Keith’s cheekbone, wandered down the bridge of his nose and traced his cupid’s bow. Lance’s eyes lingered on Keith’s lips as Keith closed his eyes, now finally rid of all tension. His hot breath ghosted across Lance’s hand when it lingered in the centre of his cupid’s bow and Lance found himself out of breath. He stared at the curve of his lips, imagined him tracing it with something other than his finger.

“Let’s be good to each other then,” Lance murmured his tone almost reverent as he leaned his forehead against Keith’s.

Keith opened his eyes and Lance felt like he could see the entirety of his soul. For a moment they did nothing but breath each other’s air.

“Yeah, let’s.”

 

The moment between them stretched until it disobeyed the laws of time and continued stretching until they were nothing more than a memory. The world narrowed down to them, narrowed down to simply existing. As though, they would remain caught in this sweet, blissful moment of eternally standing on the precipice, eternally teetering but never actually falling, and for a while, they did.

 

At least, until Keith leaned in and Lance met him halfway.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hunk murmured when he handed her her bayard so that she could strap it to her leg. His brow had been pinched for long enough that she was certain that it would remain stuck that way even if the worry on his shoulders were to lift. Not that that was an actual possibility, they had long since surpassed the point where they knew how to feel true carelessness anymore. 

 

“Well,  _ one _ of us has to get the prisoner’s uniforms for us to actually pull off the mission,” she answered, sharper than she intended to, “You can’t change my mind, so stop trying.” 

Hunk didn’t recoil, he just sighed and tightened the straps on her black vest that was part as her disguise as a Galran mercenary. Vhon was full of them, the kind that usually ate people like her for breakfast and then went out crying for seconds and thirds.

She halted that thought before it had the chance to grow.  _ Stop this, you don’t have time to be scared. _

 

As if he had heard her thoughts, Hunk shot her an encouraging smile.

“Are you two finished?” The Princess’ posh accent cut through their bubble spun out of smiles and Pidge’s mood soured like milk left in the sun when she turned to face her.

“Of course, your majesty.” Pidge’s lip curled up in a biting sneer.

The princess didn’t acknowledge her jab, she merely pulled out the holograph that now depicted a map of the city they were to get into unseen. “Walk me through your plan again?”

“ _ Again? _ Princess, I know what I’m doing,” she hissed out through clenched teeth.

“Standard procedure,” the Princess replied tersely. Pidge wanted to reach out and strangle her. Hunk cleared his throat behind her and Pidge got a hold on her temper. She set her jaw and straightened her posture.

 

“I enter from the southside, disguised as a mercenary travelling through. My mark is Vhon’s resident launderer. Since most of the town are ex-convicts or know ex-convicts, he is bound to have some spare uniforms lying around.”

“And then?” The Princess raised her eyebrows and Pidge felt the answering scowl form on her face.

“I break into his home, get the uniforms and get out of there unseen. Easy.” She sounded arrogant, she was well aware of that but the Princess, staring down at her over the bridge of her nose, eyes cast over with doubt, didn’t deserve anything else.

 

Pidge caught and held her gaze until the Princess was the first one to look away. She nodded at Hunk and at Pidge and turned towards the door that led out of the entrance hall. Her steps echoed through the hall but they quickly stopped when she turned to face them again. 

“Hunk, meet me in the control room for further planning.” She waited for Hunk to nod and then continued her way out of the entrance hall.

 

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were my backup tonight?”

“Change of plans. Allura decided to do some last-minute planning. Lance is on comms duty, though. So it’s not like you’ll get bored.” He shot her one of his soft smiles and her complaint about being uninformed died in her throat. Instead, she returned his smile and took a step back.

“Be careful,” he urged her, fretting and worried like he always was.

Pidge turned towards the door. “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

She would never volunteer for a mission again. Pidge grit her teeth and rubbed her arms to keep what little body heat she had left. Lance could have done this. But  _ no _ ! He couldn’t because _ I don’t know what exact uniform we need  _ and  _ do you remember my last stealth mission? Axe pulled a gun on me!  _

Lazy bastard.

_ “Hey! I resent that,” _ The comms flicked open and Lance interrupted her disgruntled muttering.

Her scowl deepened. “I frankly do not care for your resentment right now. It’s  _ fucking freezing _ .”

_ “The exact reason why it’s  _ you _ doing the mission and not I.” _

“Shut up.” She hissed but he only laughed at her.

 

She halted at the sound and narrowed her eyes. “You sound different,” she observed.

_ “Different how?” _

_ Lighter, more vibrant, as if the world were suddenly okay again.  _ “Happier,” she angled her head, “What changed?”

_ “Don’t you have a mission to focus on? That’s way more important than, boring ol’ me!”  _ He exclaimed, his laughter too shrill to be genuine especially now that she had just heard the real thing.

“You used to be better at lying too.” He sighed.

_ “Keith and I made up…”  _ he trailed off but Pidge wouldn’t stop digging now.

“ _ And?” _

_ “We kissed.”  _ Pidge froze.

“Oh, okay,” she cleared her throat to get her voice back into the octave it actually belonged, “I hadn’t thought you would figure it out so soon. I would have estimated at least a few more weeks of pining.”

“You noticed?!” She should have felt insulted or at least affronted at Lance’s disbelieving tone but he was right. She actually  _ was  _ that emotionally stunted.

She snorted. “Pffft, of course not. Hunk noticed.”

“Should have thought of that, yeah. Makes infinitely more sense, yeah.”

 

“So,” she dragged out the vowel, “You and Keith?”

“Nope, not now. Not while you’re there,” Lance said resolutely, “Get back here in one piece and you get to ask all the questions you want.”

Pidge ignored him. “It’s good that you're happier, that you two are together… It seems like the kind of thing to work.”

She could practically hear his smile, wide and goofy and enamoured like it hadn’t been in a long time. “Yeah, I think so too.”

 

The comms laid silent after that. Her steps were completely swallowed by the sand beneath her feet as she stepped through the gates of Vhon. She silently stepped onto the main street and looked around to see if there was any patrol to look out for. She didn’t find any but her mind was blown regardless.

Whatever she had imagined Vhon to be––dark, gritty, crime-infested––it was none of that. It was a burst of colour, even in the dark, now all the more vibrant that she saw the world in black and white and the shades of grey in between. 

Vhon’s alleys were small crooked things, looping around another in a seemingly endless game of catch. The houses that lined the streets stood tall and narrow and people had stretched out ropes between opposing windows to let their laundry air-dry between them. Some of the doors stood wide open, without any fear of thieves or other evils that could make their way over their thresholds. In another universe, she would have had the time to admire each one of the colourful facades and imagine what lives might have unfolded behind them but that wasn’t this one.

 

She hunched her shoulders and lowered her head as she tried to blend in with the other people walking past her, all of them darker and taller than her. It was amidst the hustle and bustle of Vhon’s nightlife that she began to see the signs that Vhon was indeed a city, harbouring cruelty and not just a small speck of a utopia she longed to have. 

The clothes that hung above her were more often than not stained a rusty brown with blood and the holes torn into them spoke of knives and daggers and bullets. Every other person bore the glint of hidden blades and those who didn’t were menacing enough on their own. It was as if she had stepped into the heart of a crime still in the making and everyone she saw could have been the perpetrator.

 

Her heartbeat sped up as she rushed into a side alley. 

_ “Pidge you stopped moving. Is everything okay?”  _ Lance asked through the comms, his concern aggravating her already strained nerves. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied.

“How is Vhon?”

“Disconcerting,” she took a deep breath, to steady herself, “it’s too pretty to be this evil.”

 

The noise of the main street seemed muffled and far away, now that she wasn’t at its centre anymore. She drew up the holographic map. Two streets away from where she was supposed to be. Alright, she could do this. She would just have to get in there, her tech would take care of the rest.

“I’m right here if you need me,” Lance murmured and Pidge’s mind latched onto that promise as if it were a lifeline.

 

She took out the two hooks Hunk had given her before she left and tested them on the brick walls in front of her. She hooked them into the space between two rows of bricks and gave them an experimental tug. They didn’t even move an inch.

The muscles in her arms shook and trembled as she began to scale the wall. When she reached the ledge the lead to the rooftop she hauled herself upwards and slumped against it to catch a breath. Gun or no gun, the next time Lance would have to do this.

 

_ “Uh, uh don’t think so. I and my noodle biceps wouldn’t have gotten up there on our own,”  _ Lance quipped back to what she had intended to be merely a thought.

“Lance you’re literally an acrobat,” she deadpanned as she got back on her feet.

_ “We both know I skipped weight training.” _ She could imagine the exact way he said it, airy, teasing grin, hands brushing off her response like it was nothing but a pesky fly. She huffed out a breath. 

“Am I still undetected?” she asked as she walked across the flat rooftop.

_ “So far, yes. The citywide security system is still down and from what I’m picking up there are no larger crowds save for like taverns and stuff.” _

 

She transformed her bayard, a hand-sized qatar with the functions of a grappling hook and the bonus effect of being a  _ mean _ taser and took aim. She exhaled to steady her hands and fired.

The blade shot out and the rope wrapped itself around a mast on the opposing rooftop.

“Well, here goes nothing,” she muttered and pushed a button to retract the blade. With a force greater than she had expected, she was pulled across the gap between the two roofs. She bit down on her tongue to silence the scream threatening to spill from her throat and her eyes filled up with tears as her mouth was flooded with the metallic tang of iron.

There was a gush of air, the sensation of her heart dropping down to her feet and then it was over. She stumbled, dizzy from her insane way of travelling and collided with the mast she had used to pull herself to the other side. 

 

_ “Eh, I’ll give you an 8 on the stunt but a two for the landing, you really didn’t have to crash into that poor mast.” _

_ “ _ I will murder you in your sleep,” she growled but took aim again. And with Lance’s laughter filling the comms and her ears, she kept going. Each leap less scary than the last.

 

When she reached the mark’s house her landing was practised and her feet were sure when they connected with the floor again. She made sure her comms were open but told Lance to be quiet as she tried to find out which of the windows would be her point of entry. Her heartbeat was everywhere, her head, her chest, her hands and her fear only worked as an amplifier.

She found a small window in the kitchen, left slightly ajar to catch some of the night breeze, and absolutely perfect for her to break into. She gripped the rooftop ledge and dangled off it until she could reach the windowsill with her feet. She crouched down and grinned when she saw that the window had to be at least as old as she was. That would be easy to crack. 

 

Her fingers made deft work with the latch hidden in the window frame – pulling and twisting until it finally clicked. She climbed inside and began to walk around the little shop, a small cleaning service where the employees hunched over little wash basins and washed the clothing by hand. Pidge almost pitied them but then she decided against it.

She couldn’t spend her time caring about people she would never meet. At least not now. She would save up her kindness for the times after the war. She walked over to the piles of laundry, ducked under white linen sheets that had been hung out to dry and full on beamed when she indeed found Prisoners suits. 

 

_ “Did you doubt me?”  _ Lance asked voice embellished with false indignation. He had been the one to propose Vhon as a way to find prisoner’s garments and had proven once more that he knew every corner of the world.

“Can you blame me?” Pidge whispered back to annoy him and began to stuff some of the uniforms into her backpack. 

She didn’t check for sizes or anything ––not that she would’ve been able to read them in the dark anyway–– instead, she reached for those that seemed the largest to her. Lance would alter them if needed. She was almost done when she heard a creak on the stairs, a floorboard groaning under added weight and her heart stopped. This couldn’t be happening. 

 

She pressed herself to the wall behind her and held her breath and hoped that the sheets would be enough to hide her.

“Is anybody there?”An old, male voice croaked out. She pressed herself deeper into the wall. The heavy steps came closer, an uneven  _ thump, thump _ . A heartbeat that promised nothing but doom and Pidge edged farther and farther away from it. 

“I asked,  _ Is anybody there?”  _ His voice rose in anger and the thumping grew heavier. Sheets were pulled aside, clothes thrown around. Pidge kept moving, hand now on her bayard backpack clutched to her chest. Her heartbeat was thunder in her ears and she could’ve sworn he heard it too.

 

She took another step and the floorboard beneath her foot creaked. 

The man turned and began to make a run for her. To catch her? To  _ kill _ her? Both were possible.

She sprinted towards him, backpack hanging off one shoulder, blindly reaching for a sheet, a shirt? Pants?  _ Something _ that would help her. 

 

She came up behind him and swung the sheet over his head as if he was a wild animal and her there to tame him. His yell was reduced to a muffled scream and the force of it propelled both of then backwards and then forwards. forwards, backwards, left and right. The man stumbled blindly as if gripped by rabies

 

Her opponent, both taller and heavier than her, bit down on the sheet as if it was a rein, leaned forward against the grip she had on him and hoisted her up his back like this was a piggyback ride. They swayed and stumbled until Pidge finally felt wall a wall behind her. Her feet, which until then had done nothing but hang down uselessly, found purchase and launched them off the wall as hard as possible. 

 

The man fell forward, banged his head on the floor and when Pidge got off him, bayard raised, just in case, he didn’t rise again. He stayed down, his head cracked open and blood slowly dripping onto the hardwood floor. Pidge didn’t dare to check for a pulse and instead got up to get out of there before someone came looking for him. 

 

It wasn’t until she was out on the street again that Lance opened the comms again.  _ “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”  _ Pidge slowly touched the bruise forming on her forehead and winced when it throbbed as an answer. 

“Yeah, fine,” she lied through clenched teeth. Now that the adrenalin was threatening to fully die down, her entire body was starting to ache. But she had gotten what she needed. Success.

 

She couldn’t bring herself to smile when she turned onto the main street and began to steer towards the city gates. 

“What is a lady like you doing out here alone at night?” A slimy voice asked from the other side of the streets. A boy made two or three years older than her, tall and lean with shoulders not grown into yet and a grin on as if he had, approached her and Pidge was  _ this  _ close to just rolling her eyes at him. 

 

She opened her mouth to snap something witty back but then her eyes fell onto the badge he had pinned to the chest pocket of his vest–– _ Galran City Patrol.  _  Fear leashed her tongue and when she opened her mouth there was nothing to say. His grin only widened, thinking he had stunned her speechless.

Pidge gulped and tried to get a grip on herself. “Nothing important, Sir,” she said, her voice shakier than it should be but there had to have been enough bite in it anyway because the boy to a step back, his dark eyes narrowing.

 

“ _ You have done nothing wrong. Now hold yourself like you believe it to be true,”  _ Lance whispered, _ “Pull your shoulders back, straighten your spine and raise your chin.”  _ Lance gave instructions and she followed. There was something oddly freeing in their shift of dynamic. This was Lance’s field of expertise, lying and acting. She wasn’t good at either of those but she had Lance.

_ “Don’t listen to him. Just do as I say.”  _

Pidge gathered all the courage and threw the boy a withering glare. “Now, I have somewhere to be so if you could.” She made a sharp shooing motion with her hand, her voice sharp and annoyed. 

 

For a second it looked like it worked.

 

Something in her periphery began to move and the next thing she knew there was pain exploding in her head and the left knee hitting the cobblestones. She gasped when her glasses flew off her face and when she opened her eyes again, the world was nothing but a blurry mess.

 

She vaguely heard Lance talking but the ringing in her head drowned him out. The boy whined, the sound high-pitched and too theatrical to not sound cruel. “Why do you have to ruin my fun? You know I like to charm them before we arrest them,” He leaned down into her face until she could see his clearly again and shot her a cold smile, “Especially when they are as cute as this one.” Pidge began to slowly itch backwards but her efforts were stopped when she felt another pair of legs at her back. She looked up but aside from blurry dark hair and skin way too pale to be from here, there was nothing for her to see. 

 

“Your charms seem to not have much of an effect on this one,” the guard at her back quipped back. Her accent turned all of the words sharper than they were supposed to be and Pidge found herself flinching as if she had struck her.

Pidge flinched even harder when she looked down to face her. “Let’s make this quick. You give us your backpack and any other valuables you have and we promise not to arrest you, hm?” She had said  _ arrest  _ as if she meant  _ to kill. _ But she wouldn’t get an answer, not a verbal one, anyway.

 

Between all her inching Pidge had somehow regained her grip on her Bayard and when the hooded, female guard leaned down to force an answer out of her. Pidge took a deep breath, swung at her legs and activated the electric voltage. Her opponent stumbled back screaming and Pidge used the opening to get back to her feet.

Her glasses were gone. She couldn’t see. But she would do this anyway. While the female guard was still reeling and twitching from the unexpected attack, the male one was already charging at her. Left at a disadvantage and unable to look for tells, she did what she could to deflect his blows. 

Armed with nothing but a small dagger he had to get close to hurt her. So she did her best to prevent that. She met his dagger with her bayard and activated the voltage. The air around them hummed as the voltage, led through the blade, met his hand. The stink of burnt skin met her nose when she used his distraction to slam her knee upwards into his sternum. There was a crack in his chest and he was left choking for breath. He was still coughing when she grabbed a fistful of his hair and put her bayard against his temple.

 

“Lance, I could use some guidance here,” she murmured under her breath.

_ “One hostage situation coming right up!”  _ He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, his voice was a promise of murder.

“You will drop your weapon and put your hands up,” Pidge repeated the words that Lance spoke in her ears. She didn’t quite as menacing as he did but it would have to be enough.

“I won’t take orders from a child,” the female guard bit back. 

“You’ll have to.” The words were Lance’s but the voltage in her bayard flaring up to make a point was all hers. 

“ _ Drop your weapon,”  _ Pidge hissed out.

“What tells you that I care what happens to him? You don’t have any power here,” Her opponent yelled out, “You can kill him for all I care!”

“Don’t try to lie to me,” Pidge drawled out and flashed her a cruel smile at Lance’s command, “Do you think I don’t hear the tremble in your voice?” She didn’t actually but Lance was way better at reading people so there probably  _ was  _ one. She increased the voltage higher and brushed a few of his blond strands with her bayard to make a point.

 

The silence between them stretched but eventually, the female guard caved and dropped her weapon. Pidge only lowered the voltage after she heard the  _ clang _ of metal on stone. “Wasn’t so hard wasn’t it?” She did her best to imitate Lance’s tone of silkenly patronising and the tremble that ran through her hostage’s frame told her that it worked.

“You will follow me to the city gates. Think of trying anything and I’ll fry him deep enough that you’ll regret it,” she ordered, this time with Lance’s words but  _ her  _ authority. She saw the blurry beige bit in front of her eyes move up and down and so she began to move. 

 

They were incredibly slow, with her walking backwards one eye on her opponent and one eye on the streets behind her. When they reached the city gates she ordered her to stay back until she had crossed the city lines and stood in what was considered open desert. She let go of her hostages head and kicked him in the back to signal him to start walking. She stood there watching until she was sure that they had run off and then began her way back to where the ship would pick her up. 

 

“Thank you,” she said into the comms her voice tired and slow now that the adrenaline had worn off again. 

_ “Anytime.”  _ With that, she turned the comms off and waited for the ship to arrive.

* * *

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but the sun was already peaking over the horizon when she stepped into the control room of the Castle. Her mood soured when she saw the Princess there waiting for her. 

“Where are the others, Princess?” Pidge asked. She wouldn’t bother with a greeting. Being polite was hard enough on the days where she was well-rested, she couldn’t bring herself to do it now.

“I sent them to bed. They were pretty much dead on their feet.” Pidge nodded wordlessly and let her eyes wander to the holograph the hung between them. The silence between them stretched into something uncomfortable and Pidge dropped her backpack, filled with the uniforms for their mission and turned to leave.

 

“Wait!” The Princess called out and Pidge scowled as she turned.

“Yes?” The word was filled with more bite than she had been going for but that didn’t bother her. If her subconscious wanted to be mean then she wouldn’t stop it.

The Princess swallowed and began to knead her hands. Any other person and Pidge might have felt mercy at their discomfort. She knew the feeling of a throat swollen shut, the feeling of a skin too tight. But Princess Allura was a royal she should be able to take some scrutiny. 

“You don’t have to call me Princess. All of the others don’t and you don’t have to either.” The Princess tried herself at a warm expression, there was even a small smile playing on her lips, a small hopeful spark, wanting to receive an echo. It wouldn’t get one.

 

“But isn’t that what you are? A princess?” Pidge did her best to channel the same patronising tone that Lance had used early and the hurt on the Princess’ face told her her aim hadn’t been too far off. “What should I call you if not what you are?” Now she was just being willfully obtuse but there was a ball of rage churning and stewing in the pit of her stomach ever since they arrived here and she wouldn’t let it go unattended.

The Princess’ expression darkened. “How about my name, Pidge?”

“You see,” Pidge angled her head and scrunched up her nose as if she was thinking really hard in the issue. She was channelling her inner Lance here, so much that it was getting ridiculous but the suppressed anger in the Princess’ face was long worth it, “that requires some type of emotional connection, doesn’t it? To call a monarch by their name.”

her tone hardened, “which there  _ isn’t _ .”

 

The Princess stared at her for a long moment eyes wide in what seemed like shock or offence rightfully taken, before her brows lifted in understanding. “I understand. You’re angry at me.”

“I don’t think you do, otherwise you’d stop, Princess.” Pidge glared and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The anger in her belly rose up to her throat and gave her words a cutting edge.

“Stop what?” She met Pidge’s eyes and didn’t even made allusions to backing down.

“Being a threat.”

“To?” Now it was the Princess’ turn to play dumb and Pidge’s blood began to boil.

“Everyone!” She hissed out, her voice the worst poison, “Lance wouldn’t have gone inside the Mountain if it weren’t for you! We wouldn’t be in this mess, planning a heist and risking wars if it weren’t for  _ you!” _

 

Allura didn’t flinch, not even once and that above all made Pidge furious. “You would have broken into Spherok with or without me. You wouldn’t have abandoned your family in some Galran cell.” The Princess crossed her arms, her stance now identical to Pidge’s and raised her chin to stare her down. She was a peasant trying to wrestle a god but she wouldn’t stop now.

 

“But I wouldn’t have risked a war in the process! If we get caught, the Galra will go to war against us. Hundreds upon hundreds of us will have to die because  _ you _ put them in danger! Just like you do with everyone around you. Just like you have done with Lance as you electrocuted him, just as have done with the rest of us in Sorans.”

“You’ve made a choice––”

“ _ But I don’t want this!  _ I don’t want to be part in a war I have nothing to do with.” Pidge thrust her hands into her hair as the headache beneath her forehead spread the world in front of her eyes blurred even further.

 

“Well, do you think I do?” Admitting defeat. Caving. Sinking.

At once, all of Pidges´s anger bled away. She, a fire that had once flared up bright and tall, was nothing more than the memory of warmth scattered among ashes.

“I also don’t want you to be here. You deserve better than this, all of you. But we don’t live in a world where any of our wishes matter.” The Princess, aching and tired, visibly deflated and, as if they were somehow connected, Pidge did as well.

She didn’t want to, wanted to rage and burn and yell, yell, yell. But her anger, her fuel, slipped from her grip like sand. There was only this startingly sharp awareness, that the Princess was  _ human  _ and not only that, she was  _ suffering _ , too. In the end, there was nothing left to say, nothing worth saying anyway. None of them would apologise but both of them now saw what they truly were:

Two girls caught in a war and nowhere to escape from it.

 

* * *

 

When she entered the common room area, her thoughts too sprung up and her shoulders too tense, she was startled to find the rest of the Paladins waiting for her. All of them, just like the Princess said, more dead than alive but  _ awake _ and  _ waiting _ .

 

She crawled onto the couch, they had pulled out so all of them could fit onto it when they huddled close enough. She wordlessly fit herself into the space between Keith’s arm and Hunk’s shoulder and shot Lance and Shiro a reassuring smile when they sat up to check on her. They were a tightly spun mess of bodies and limbs, where beginnings and endings didn’t really matter. It was too hot, yes, she could already feel herself getting sweaty, but this was exactly what she needed. Comfort, a sense of _ you aren’t alone. _

 

Her shoulders relaxed.

 

“How did it go?” Hunk whispered, “Lance wouldn’t tell us any of it.”  

Pidge raised a brow at Lance. “ _ You  _ were able to keep your mouth shut for longer than an hour?” 

Lance scoffed at her and adjusted himself until he laid sprawled out over Keith’s back with his arms crossed beneath his chin. “I wanted to let you have the honour. Isn’t that gracious of me?”

If Keith was uncomfortable it didn’t show when he spoke. “Yeah, you’re an actual angel Lance.” Keith rolled his eyes but Lance didn’t see that and he ignored Keith’s sarcastic tone, instead, he smiled like the words had been spoken in earnest. Yeah, those two were definitely happening.

 

“Nothing that I couldn’t handle. There was a small run in with two guards but Lance helped me deal with those.” She shot Lance a grateful smile and he shot her a wink back as if they, just the two of them, were in on some joke. A warm feeling spread in her chest.

 

She opened her mouth to speak again but a jaw-cracking yawn tore through her. 

“You can tell us the rest in the morning, you need sleep now.” Shiro interrupted her when she opened her mouth to start her sentences a new but she found herself too tired to even argue with  him, she merely nodded and whispered a soft goodnight.

There was some shifting as all of the settled, a chorus of goodnights back and forth and just like that, her mind, previously going a hundred miles an hour, came to rest. 

 

When Pidge opened her eyes the next morning, the rest of the mess of limbs was still asleep and the reddish tint to the overhead lights in the ceiling told her that the sun was still hadn’t quite breached the horizon. She startled when she saw the Princess sitting on the floor with her head pillowed on the edge of the couch. Her face laid completely still, lost to the depths of sleep. Pidge had memorised it by the time her eyelids grew heavy again with exhaustion again.

 

At that moment, with her eyes closed, her body warm and her mind dangling off the precipice of sleep, her mind gave her a last thought to hold onto before it travelled down the steps of sleep. 

_ Maybe Allura hadn’t wanted to be alone either. _

 

* * *

 

_ Do I want to kill him? _

Allura forced herself to take a deep breath when she stepped out into the entrance hall of the Castle. Her chest ached as though the air didn’t reach it’s supposed destination. Her steps echoed through the empty hall, the sound bouncing off the walls, rising to sweeping heights. But they were drowned out by the thoughts ringing inside her head.

_ Do I want to kill him? _

 

The rest of the team had already bid their farewells and boarded the hijacked prison vehicle. Coran had gotten it from somewhere and no one had bothered to ask from where. Their faces had been stony and as they boarded the hold of the vehicle. There they sat, as motionless as marble statues.

 

Her eyes traced the carvings at the walls, depictions of Altean mythology. The stories of Gods and Heroes, the stories of Kings and Queens. She didn’t remember most of them and she couldn’t bring herself to ask Coran about them either. Her mother used to tell her about those stories. She would sit down at the edge of her bed, Allura between her parted legs and as she tamed Allura’s white locks into neat braids, her voice would paint pictures of tragedy and comedy. 

Some stories with a lesson to be learned from, others told for the sake of telling a story, for the sake of offering someone an out from whatever they had to deal with in their real life. Allura used to not understand this. Why would someone want to escape their own life? Life was a gift.

She scoffed. Now she got it.

 

_ Do I want to kill him? _

 

She stared at the pictures that told stories whose contents would remain unknown to her and she wondered. Would  _ this _ –– this foolish attempt, a death in the making –– end up being one if these stories? Would they be told to inspire or told to warn? Would they feature death? Or would there be forgiveness?

A picture popped up in her mind. A pair of bloodstained crowns. Put on display like in a museum. Displayed like an object of pride not proof of an atrocity.

Death was the only answer.

 

_ Yesyesyesyes–– _

 

She forced herself to turn away from the carvings and towards the door. Her breath, where it had been shallow before, was now slow and even, as her thoughts arranged themselves: 

She was a story half-written with the ink not fully dry. She would finish this story, she would  _ live  _ to tell her story.

 

It would be a story of revenge.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo that was intense. thank y'all for reading i hope you liked it. As for the next chapter: it will either be the last or second to last depending on how long it ends up being (im bad at estimates) so mentally ready yourself for emotional turmoil. In the meantime, feel free to come yell at me on twitter: [@cxnfiscated](https://twitter.com/cxnfiscated)  
> b y e!!

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Child abuse (just a hint), violence, gun violence, being chased, PTSD (not graphic)
> 
> If you liked it (or not) tell me! or swing by my tumblr: cxnfiscated to say hello!


End file.
